


Christmas in July

by followyourenergy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blind Castiel (Supernatural), Christmas, Christmas Tree, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Humor, M/M, Model Dean Winchester, POV Dean Winchester, Physical Therapist Castiel (Supernatural), Pining, Service Dogs, Snarky Castiel (Supernatural)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-13
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:00:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 28,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21764155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/followyourenergy/pseuds/followyourenergy
Summary: When Dean Winchester follows a service dog who won’t leave him alone, he finds Cas Novak, passed out in a stairwell with a Christmas tree on top of him.A Christmas tree? In July? Who does that?Turns out that Cas does that. And once he gets to know the snarky, independent, handsome man, Dean can’t help but fall for him.A story about being seen.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Gabriel/Kali (Supernatural), Jessica Moore/Sam Winchester, John Winchester/Mary Winchester
Comments: 881
Kudos: 989
Collections: The Destiel Fan Survey Favs Collection





	1. July

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, lovelies! I have an early holiday gift for you. Enjoy a chapter a day through December 24th! ❤️💙💚

The last thing Dean Winchester expects as he’s unloading his groceries on a blazing hot first day of July is a dog nosing at him. 

“What, am I doing it wrong?” he asks the dog, not even looking its way. He figures it’s either Penn or Teller, his neighbor’s dogs (the magician names are appropriate; they’re always escaping) and he’s focused on getting as many bags on his arms as possible. Fewer trips. 

He nearly has a trip of a different sort when the dog scoots in front of him. 

“Move, bud. Go home,” he grumbles, skirting past it blindly since the bags obstruct his view. As he fumbles with the doorknob, he realizes the dog is still there, now behind him. “You can’t come in.” Dean finally gets the door open and enters, only to hear paws behind him. “Seriously, pup, you need to—”

Dean stops. This isn’t either of his neighbor’s dogs, nor has he seen this dog before. It’s a large dog with a golden coat, floppy ears, and insistent brown eyes. It nudges at his leg. What really catches his attention, though, is the vest the dog is wearing—it’s red with reflective stripes and has SERVICE DOG written clearly across it. 

“You’re a service dog? You lost? Where do you belong, buddy?”

The dog’s ears perk up at the word “where,” and it turns toward the door, looking back at him. Dean starts to follow so he can check the dog’s tags, and the dog trots just out of his reach and looks at him again.

“Oh, shit, am I supposed to follow you? I think I'm supposed to follow you,” he rambles, remembering something he read on the internet about following service dogs if they’re alone. He tries, “What, buddy? Where?”

The dog begins to walk again, then breaks into a run when it sees Dean following. 

Two streets away, Dean is sweating and panting as he stops in the back of a two-family apartment building, where the dog has perched itself in front of an entrance. “Is this home, buddy?” Dean asks, opening the door. He’s going to be pissed if the dog just wanted him to come to its house for a play date.

But instead of being pissed, he’s shocked at what he finds: a man, sprawled out at the bottom of the stairs, with a large box on top of him, something green poking out of it. It looks like...fake tree branches. _A Christmas tree? In July?_ Dean dismisses the thought for the moment and hurriedly moves the box.

“Hey, you okay? You all right?”

When the man doesn’t respond, Dean checks his pulse and breathing. Those check out, so Dean, not knowing what else to do, calls an ambulance.

While he’s waiting, the guy starts to come around. 

“Hey, man, hey, you all right?”

“Ze...Zepp…”

At that, the dog, who’s been laying faithfully by its person, perks up and licks the man’s face. His mouth quirks a tiny smile. “Baby,” he murmurs. 

The man tries to sit up, but is nowhere near steady enough. Dean offers his hand out, but the man doesn’t even look at it. “Uh, hey, you all right?” he asks. Maybe the guy doesn’t like to be touched.

The man turns striking blue eyes his way...eyes that seem to look right through him. “Yeah,” he manages. 

“What’s your name?”

“Cas.”

“Hi, Cas. I’m Dean. Your dog brought me here.”

“’Kay.” 

His eyes start to drift closed, and though Dean is no medical professional, he’s watched enough _Dr. Sexy, M.D._ to realize he should probably try to keep him awake. “Uh, hey, no sleepies, man,” he tries. The guy’s brows pinch together, but his eyes continue to drift shut. “Uh, no, stay with me, man. Uh, you can do this. You can make it through. Uh, hold my hand and, uh, just, you have to stay with me, damn it.” 

The man’s eyes close despite Dean’s pleas. They always work so well on television, Dean thinks. He looks at the dog, who looks back at him. Neither of them seem to know what to do. 

When Dean hears voices outside, he rushes to the door and directs the paramedics in. He can’t answer any of their questions except for the guy’s first name and that he has this dog...and shit, what does he do with the dog?

“I’ll take the dog,” he tells the paramedics, who didn’t ask but nod anyway.

And this is how Dean finds himself with a stranger’s dog in the waiting room at the Emergency Department. “Uh, what do I do with you?” he asks the dog—Zeppelin, he confirms by reading its tags. “I don’t even know if you’re a boy or a girl.” It seems rude to take a peek at the dog’s junk, so it remains a mystery until he takes the dog outside to relieve itself. “Boy,” he says to himself. He texts Sam:

_Dean 12:47pm: Look what I got_

He’s not surprised at Sam’s response:

_Sam 12:48pm: Dean! Holy crap! Where are you? I want to come meet him!_

Dean chuckles. Zeppelin finishes his sniffing, and Dean figures he’d better take him back inside, just in case they call the dog in for Cas. He has no idea what sort of service the dog provides.

_Dean 12:52pm: He’s not mine. I’m just watching him._

_Sam 12:52pm: :(_

Dean laughs. Sam’s always wanted a dog. 

_Sam 12:53pm: For who?_

_Dean 12:53pm: Guy I met._

_Sam 12:53pm: Oh?_

He groans. His family is way too invested in his love life, a life he’s much too busy and distrustful to actually have.

_Dean 12:54pm: Not that, sorry. Long story. Tell you later._

As he sits in the waiting area again, people approach—kids, of course, but many are adults, too. He’s nervous at first, not knowing how Zeppelin is with other people, but he doesn’t stop them. Zeppelin takes the attention in stride, even rolling over for belly rubs and grunting in joy. Dean sighs in relief.

A woman approaches with a little girl and asks if the dog is on duty, explaining to the girl that the special vest means he’s a working dog and he has a job, and permission has to be requested. Dean’s eyes widen. He gives permission, and the girl is delighted, but now he’s not sure if he should be allowing anyone to touch Zeppelin. Is he supposed to be keeping the dog from interacting? Should he be “on,” despite the fact that his owner isn’t here? And how would he do that? He doesn’t know, so he continues as he has been and everyone’s happy, particularly Zeppelin.

Three hours later, Dean’s called in with Zeppelin. Cas is sitting up on a bed, looking a little dazed but otherwise okay. “Zepp, up,” he commands the dog, who does as he’s told. “Release,” he says, and then Zeppelin—Zepp—is in his face, his tongue scraping across the man’s face, sandpaper against sandpaper. “Hey, baby, yes, I’m okay. Bit of scrambled eggs up in the head, but I’m okay. Yes, good boy. I love you. Yes.”

Now that he doesn’t have a box flattening him, Dean notices how attractive Cas is...dark hair, those stunning blue eyes, and broad shoulders. He realizes he’s salivating over an injured man and averts his eyes.

“Hi, mysterious stranger,” Cas calls across the room, not quite looking at him. 

“Uh, hi? Are you talking to me?”

At that, Cas faces him. _Oh, he has a great smile, too._ “Are you the one who came to my aid?”

“Uh, yeah. That’s me. Dean. Winchester.”

“That’s right. Dean. I’m sorry, I forgot. I’m Castiel Novak.” He sticks his hand out, and Dean shakes it. “You’ve met Zepp, of course.”

“Yeah. Named after the band?”

“He is.”

“Cool. He’s awesome.”

“Thank you. I think so. Zepp, down.” The dog, who was stomping all over him, calms immediately with the command and lays down. 

“That’s impressive.”

“It ought to be. I’ve spent the last three years working with him.”

“Damn.”

“Yes.” He smiles again, and Dean notices dimples on his cheeks and a divot on his chin. Dean’s a sucker for both. He sees a lot of beautiful people in his work, and this guy could easily fit in. “Thank you for staying with him. Was he well-behaved?”

“Definitely. Better than me,” he jokes, and is gratified when Cas chuckles. “Um, a bunch of people petted him. I wasn’t sure if that was okay or not. Sorry if that’s not allowed.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine. He’s very friendly, and he knows when he’s not working that he’s free to be a dog.”

Before Dean can respond, a man wearing scrubs ambles in with a holier-than-thou air. Dean hates people like that. “Mr. Novak, got your discharge papers ready,” he drawls in a bored tone. The man brusquely explains the discharge instructions and gives him an electronic pad to sign. Cas signs it with a scribble.

“Thank you,” Cas replies when the nurse is finished. He holds out his phone. “Would you please hit the voice recorder icon and repeat the gist of what you just said? Just in case I forget.”

The nurse sighs. “It’s all right here in the forms. We’re really busy here.”

Cas stares at him, through him. “Very well. Let me look them over before I leave, then, to make sure I understand them.” He takes the papers in his lap and stares at the page. “What—oh my God, I can’t see them. I can’t see! Holy shit, I came in with a concussion and now I can’t see! What did you people do to me?”

The man panics. “Uh, oh, shit, I—lemme get someone, I—” He sticks his head out the door and calls, “Alex!” 

A young woman, also in nursing scrubs, enters. “Hi. Is there a problem, Mr. Novak?”

“Ah, Alex, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Alex, would you please instruct your nursing novice to read the charts of his patients before coming in? Perhaps then he would know why I can’t read my own discharge papers that he refused to read into a recorder for me.”

The nurse—Alex—raises her brow disdainfully at the other nurse. “Dude, he’s blind.”

The man’s face reddens. “Coulda told me,” he mumbles.

Cas tips his head from side to side. “Hmm. Well, I would’ve, but you should’ve known, and since you were rude, I decided you needed a lesson in bedside manners. Consider yourself lucky I have a concussion, otherwise I really would’ve messed with you.”

Dean struggles not to laugh.

The embarrassed nurse leaves, Alex reads his discharge instructions into his recorder, and then Dean is alone with Cas once again. 

“That’s why you have Zeppelin,” Dean blurts, then facepalms. _Stupid._ “Sorry.”

“That’s why I have Zepp, yes,” Cas confirms with a smile. “Don’t be embarrassed. I didn’t expect you to know. He should have, though.”

“Yeah. He was an ass, huh?”

“Quite.”

“He didn’t expect you to stand up to him, obviously.”

“Unlike me, he should’ve seen it coming.”

“Jesus,” Dean blurts, then snorts as Cas smiles proudly. This guy is a hoot. “Are you hopped up on pain meds, or are you always like this?”

“A little from column A, a little from column B.”

They share a laugh, then Cas swings his legs around. Zepp immediately jumps down to the floor, ready to assist.

“Well, now that I’m officially discharged, I guess I get to go home. It would have been vastly easier if what’s-his-name stuck around to call a cab for me, but I guess that’s on me for scaring him off.”

“He shoulda known, though, like you said.”

“Yes. Now, where is...ah.” Cas finds his phone beside his leg. He presses the home button and says, “Call Aaron’s Taxi.”

“Wait!” Dean exclaims, causing Cas to startle. “Sorry, just—I can bring you home. I don’t mind. I already know where you live.”

“That’s creepy.”

“Uh, no, it’s not like that, I mean—”

“Dean, I'm giving you shit.”

Relieved, Dean laughs yet again. “I think we’re gonna get along.”

Cas grins.

~~~

“A fuckin’ Christmas tree. In July,” Dean says to his new friend a few days later over homemade burgers (not strictly on the diet, but fuck it). He came by to check on him the day after his concussion and has been back every day since. Cas is wickedly funny, and cute to boot. 

“Untimely, yes, but they had one and I didn’t want to pay a lot of money for one in December.”

“Okay, one, they’re not that expensive. Two, who thinks of Christmas in July? Three, those assholes at the yard sale who sold it to you shoulda helped you home with it. And finally, how do you even know it’s a good one? I mean, no offense.”

“Just because you say ‘no offense’ doesn’t mean it’s not offensive.”

Dean winces. “I know, I’m sorry. I just meant that I didn’t mean to, uh, you know, point out...uh…”

“Point out the obvious?”

“Uh, yeah. That’s dumb, I guess. I really am sorry to be insensitive, I—” Dean stops as Cas’ devilish smile spreads across his face. He huffs and smiles reluctantly. “You’re giving me shit again, aren’t you?”

“Mmmhmm.”

Dean shakes his head and takes a bite of his burger. “You really are a dick, you know that?” he grumbles as he chews. 

Cas shrugs. “I am what I eat.”

Dean spews burger bits across the table. “Dude,” he laughs. 

“What?”

“You made me spray food all over the place!”

“Gross.”

“Asshole.”

“I eat those, too.”

“Jesus.”

“What?”

“Dude, just...I’m bi, okay, and I’ve come out to people a lot. I’m always so careful about it, and here you are blurting out that you eat dick like you’re talking about the weather.”

Cas shrugs. “I don’t care anymore. I’m gay and I’m too old to give a shit what people think about it.”

“This is the weirdest coming out talk I’ve ever had with someone, by far.”

“You’re so sensitive. No offense.”

Dean wonders for half a second if it’s fair to throw something at a person who can’t see before he tosses a balled-up napkin at his chest. “Stop being a prick.”

“Have you ever wondered why we insult people by calling them body parts associated with sex? I mean, we don’t say, ‘You’re such a spleen’ or ‘suck my elbow, you fucking kneecap.’” 

“It is weird,” Dean acknowledges. “Probably has to do with our culture's shaming of sexuality.”

“Hmm. Good point.”

A rush of pride inflates his chest. In his line of work, people aren’t praised for their intellect. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

A comfortable silence falls over them, at least until Dean remembers what led them down this path. “So, yeah, sorry about before. I shouldn’t assume stuff. I just honestly didn’t know how you could tell if the tree was a good one. I wasn’t trying to be, uh...what’s the word?”

“Ableist?”

“Yeah.”

“Honestly, it doesn’t bother me. Being blind is part of who I am, but I haven’t always been, as I told you.”

Dean nods. He remembers Cas telling him the other day that he has Retinitis Pigmentosa. (“A very unique, advanced case, because I’m a very unique, advanced man,” he’d joked.) “Still, I should be better about it.”

“Well, like I said, it doesn’t bother me, but it might bother other people, so the best policy usually is to respectfully ask.”

“Yeah. Cool. Thanks.”

“So, getting back to our original conversation,” Cas says, which is something about Cas that Dean’s noticed—he has a mind like a steel trap, and he always follows through and completes a task (or, in this case, a conversation). “I bought that one because I like to save where I can. _I_ think of Christmas in July because I’m used to planning ahead. When the world isn’t adapted to you, you have to. As for ‘those assholes,’ they were an old woman and her sister, and the tree belonged to another sister who passed away recently. I’m pretty sure we all would have ended up concussed on the stairs if they’d helped me. Incidentally, I’m a strong guy, so I didn’t need help. I would have been fine if the damn box didn’t get jammed in that narrow-ass stairwell of mine and sent me backwards. And as for how I knew it was a good one...well, I took their word for it.”

Dean pouts thoughtfully, then nods. “Yeah, well, I still think you shoulda waited. Couldn’t that brother of yours who stayed with you the last few days have helped you?”

“Yes, but I would’ve heard all the garbage I just heard from you out of his mouth, and I’m much less patient with him.”

“Garbage. Wow. Be blunt, why don’t you?”

“If you insist.”

Dean smirks. “Okay, so should we take a look at it?” His smirk immediately falls into a grimace as his face heats in embarrassment. “Sorry, I mean, uh, should we—”

“Dean?”

“Hmm?”

“It’s okay to use the word ‘look.’ So shut up.” 

“Okay. Sorry. I—”

“Are you always going to be this awkward?”

“Hey, fuck you, I'm trying!”

“Ah, that’s better.”

Cas smirks and playfully shoves his arm, and Dean’s face warms for a completely different reason now. “Let’s go check out the tree you damn near broke your neck for.”

Cas shrugs. “Sure.” He leads the way to the living room. Dean watches him as he follows. He’s impressed with how confident he is as he moves around his place. Dean imagines he’d be feeling around everything and tripping over shit if he were in Cas’ position. He scoots right down in front of the box, nestled under the window. “Here it is. So you tell me: is it more Rockefeller Center or Charlie Brown?”

Dean stares at the wretched box—it’s falling apart and covered with patches of black speckles. “We’ll see,” he mutters. 

The barely-together box falls apart in their hands, which makes removing it easy. “Ugh, dude, it stinks.”

Cas wrinkles his nose. “I’m trying to determine if that’s cat urine or mothballs.”

“I’m gonna vote for basement mildew.”

“Hmm, they should really make this into a candle.” Cas clears his throat and puts on a deep, soothing voice. “ _Delight in the bouquet of urine, mothballs, and mildew in our newest candle, Grandma’s Basement. It comes pre-used in a dusty glass jar that you’ll surely burn your fingers trying to light. Ah, revel in the memories.”_

Dean squeezes his eyes shut as he wheezes—partly from laughter, partly from all the dust and questionable scents invading his nose. “Man, you’re not seriously keeping this.”

“It probably just needs to air out. Let’s set it up, and I’ll keep the windows open.”

“Dude, you’re fucking nuts.” 

But despite Dean’s opinion, he helps Cas set up the tree that’s definitely seen better days. Random strands of tinsel are caught on a few branches. Cas pokes himself on an ornament hook that got left behind. Dean’s hands get scraped up separating the branches, and he knows it’s gonna hurt like a son of a bitch when he washes them later. 

“So? What’s your verdict?” Cas asks when it’s finally upright. It’s tilting to the left. Dean’s not entirely certain it will actually stay standing. 

“My verdict? This is the most hopeless tree I’ve ever seen.”

Cas hums as he feels the shape and heft of the branches. “Well, I’ll give it a chance anyway. I’ll leave it up to air out a bit first, then I’ll drag it into my office.”

“Seriously?”

“Sure.”

Dean shakes his head and chuckles. “You are my kind of crazy, man. My kind of crazy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what did you think of the first chapter? Poor Dean. He’s trying! Did you enjoy Sassy Cas? He’s a bit irreverent, hmm?
> 
> Castiel has Retinitis Pigmentosa (RP), which is an inherited disorder that causes a gradual loss of peripheral and then central vision. Most people do not lose all of their vision until later in life, though it varies widely. Cas has the X-linked form, which tends to be the most severe.


	2. July 31-August 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let us gather to celebrate Julymas!

“A Christmas tree. In July.”

“Don’t listen to Dean, Sam. He’s just jealous because he’s never had a Christmas tree in July.”

“Yeah, ‘cause I want a tree covered in dollar store flip-flops and sunglasses that _still_ smells like a sewer.”

“You do.”

“You need to get rid of this thing. It reeks.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“You’ve gone nose-blind.”

“I am so offended.”

Sam cringes as he points to Cas’ eyes and gives Dean a _What the fuck_ look. Dean waves him off. “ _I’m_ offended that you still have this atrocity up.”

“ _I’m_ offended by your face, and I can’t even see it.”

“I’m offended by _your_ face, and I _can_ see it.”

“Lame, Dean. I win.”

The two of them snort as his brother looks on with bewilderment. “I can see why you get along,” Sam says eventually, a grin slowly spreading across his face. 

“Yes,” Cas agrees with a laugh. “Is the smell really that bad?”

“Dude, it’s awful.”

“Guess I have gone nose-blind,” he sighs. “Oh well. Let’s do our exchange of gifts.”

“Cool.” Dean stands and gathers up the two gifts under the truly awful artificial tree—his wrapped in newspaper, and Cas’ wrapped in actual Christmas paper. He brings them to the couch, where Cas and Sam have planted themselves. 

“You could have told me you guys were doing this, Dean,” Sam mutters. “I would’ve brought something.”

“You brought yourself. That’s plenty,” Cas interjects before Dean can respond. 

“Sure, be all nice to him.”

“I like him.”

“Oh, you like him but not me, the guy who rescued you from third degree assault by an artificial conifer. Thanks a lot.”

“I never said I don’t like you.”

“That’s...all right, fair,” Dean grumbles. 

“I merely implied it.”

“Ass.”

Cas snickers. Dean grins.

“I’m flipping you off, just so you know.” 

“Fair.”

Dean turns to his brother. “And as for you, you’re the one who invited yourself along to meet Cas. Ain’t my fault you tagged along on Julymas.”

“Who even celebrates Christmas in July?”

“We do. It’s tradition.”

“You’ve known each other for 31 days. You don’t have any traditions.”

“It’s a _new_ tradition.”

Sam arches a brow at him. Dean swats him. They bat at each other until Cas calls Zepp over and effectively distracts Sam, who can’t get enough of the pup. 

“Okay,” Dean says, bringing his attention back to Cas. He places the package gently on Cas’ lap. “You first.”

Cas laughs in delight when his hands reveal the gift. “Knob Creek?”

“You got it.”

“We will make good use of this.” Cas grins and elbows him, and Dean smiles back, even if Cas can’t see him. Cas just does that to him. He licks his lips. Stupid Sam and his stupid knowing eyebrow. “Okay, your turn.”

Dean unwraps the small box. In it is a piece of paper with some words typed on it: _This coupon good for disposal of one putrid-smelling tree of your choice._ He laughs. “Dude, you knew!”

“You tell me _every time_ you come here. I finally got a chance to talk to my landlord, and he’s going to bring it to the transfer station. We just have to leave it downstairs by the driveway.”

“That’s awesome! Best gift ever!”

“It’s not actually your gift.” He reaches beside him and pulls up a reusable grocery bag sitting next to the couch. “You’re going to laugh.”

He’s right. Dean giggles the whole time as he pulls out pineapple juice, lemon juice in a plastic lemon, ginger, simple syrup, and seltzer water, the ingredients for a drink they talked about trying. “Kentucky Luau! Wow, same wavelength, man! ‘Cept for the alcohol.”

“I knew you were giving me the Knob Creek. Why would I buy it?”

“How did you know?”

“Blind person powers.”

“Prick.”

“I was running low and you commented on it. You’re predictable.”

“Oh.” Dean frowns. 

“That’s not a bad thing. I like predictable.”

Dean perks up, a tiny smile tickling the corners of his mouth. He ducks his head. “Oh.” Then, to suppress the sparks in his chest that have no business being there, he adds, “Good thing I did, you cheap bastard. Can’t make the drink without it.”

“Oh, sorry, I don’t make oodles of money like you, Mr. Male Model. If that _is_ what you really do for a living.”

“Shut up. I bet you already looked it up online.”

“Mmm. Sadly, I _do_ only read online porn mags for the articles. But I heard the spread of your spread was excellent.”

Sam pretends to retch, Cas sits primly, and Dean shakes his head and lets the sparks loose, just a little.

At 12:01a.m. on August 1, they declare Julymas over and haul the tree to the driveway. Dean and Sam say their good nights to Cas and Zepp there, Dean dwelling a little longer with Cas as Sam gives them a couple of minutes. 

“So, uh, we gonna try those drinks tomorrow night?”

“For sure. Dinner too?”

“I’ll buy.”

“Sounds good. See you then.”

“See ya.” He hesitates, then gives Cas’ forearm a quick squeeze. He turns before he can see Cas’ reaction.

“Oh, Dean,” Sam teases as they slip into Dean’s classic Chevy.

“What?” he snaps.

“Nothing, nothing.” Sam raises his hands defensively. 

“That’s what I thought.”

And even though Dean has the last word, he can’t help but be unsettled by his brother’s smirk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have I mentioned I freaking love Cas? 😂 But Dean’s starting to keep up with him. 😘
> 
> Wanna try a Kentucky Luau yourself? Check it out! [Kentucky Luau](https://www.knobcreek.com/our-cocktails/kentucky-luau)


	3. September

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Charlie, our hero.

“So yeah. A Christmas tree. In July.”

“That’s freaking adorable! What a meet-cute!” Dean’s agent and longtime friend Charlie gushes. She’s the one who “discovered” him, years ago, when they were at the same Comic-Con, and she’s the reason he’s actually successful in modeling and makes a good living at it when lots of people flounder and make very little. 

“Yeah, it was pretty cute. Except for the whole concussion thing.”

“Well, yeah, not that, obviously.”

“Right. So, anyway, yeah. He’s awesome. I’m so psyched for you to meet him.”

“Oh my gosh, me too!”

Dean flashes her a grin as he looks for their metro stop. They’re meeting Cas at one of their favorite bars in the city, one that Cas introduced him to. Charlie’s only here for a couple of days, making a pit stop before she has to be back in L.A. 

“Sooo…”

Her tone makes him suspicious. “What?”

“Cas. You doin’ the horizontal tango?”

“No. We’re just friends.”

“Suuuure.”

“Since when have you known me to date?”

Charlie purses her lips, amusement dancing in her eyes. “Since when did I ask you about dating? I asked you if you were having sex.”

The train car seems a whole lot warmer all of a sudden. “Oh. Right. Um—”

“Dean wants to date Caaaas, Dean wants to date Caaaas…” Charlie sing-songs, looking positively smug. Dean wants to fling himself off the train, moving or not.

“Stop it! I do not!”

“Do too.”

“Do not!”

“Methinks you protest too much.”

Dean scowls as they stand up and exit. “Methinks you’ve got it all wrong.”

“Dean.” She stops him as soon as they’ve cleared the platform. “How long have we known each other?”

“I dunno. Ten, twelve years?”

“And how often am I right?”

She eyes him steadily, her hands planted on her hips. “Shut up,” he grumbles. He starts walking. She follows with a laugh.

“So, what’s the deal? Big age difference?”

“No. Well, I’m 35 and he just turned 44, but that’s not a big deal.”

“Okay. Different living habits?”

“Nah. He’s neat—kinda has to be, I guess—and he’s a great cook. He’s a physical therapist, so he has a pretty 9-to-5 job, but he’s cool with my weird schedule and travel and shit. We work out together now, meet up at the gym. I’m barely coherent, and he walks in like he’s fuckin’ _happy_ to be there at ass o’clock in the morning. Crazy. Dude’s _built_ , though.”

Charlie smirks. “Mmm. Okay, different interests?”

“We’re peas in a pod, man. We both like music and movies, and we like to go out and swim sometimes, or just walk around with Zepp and play with him.”

“Okay...is it ‘cause he’s blind?”

“No, it’s...I mean, it took a little getting used to, ‘cause I’ve never known a person with blindness before him, but it’s cool. He’s so funny, but like, he’s so nice, too? I mean, piss him off and he’ll put you in your place, but he’s really understanding and easygoing most of the time.”

“So, are you not attracted to him physically, then?”

Sweat beads on Dean’s forehead—from the late September heat, sure, but there’s a drop or two up there courtesy of Charlie’s question, too. “Trust me, that is not a fuckin’ problem. You’ll see. He has blue eyes, but they’re not all cloudy like I thought everyone with blindness had—not true, by the way, just me being uninformed. Anyway, they’re this denim blue, and when he wears this tight blue t-shirt he has...fuck me, man. Ugh, and his _smile_. It makes his eyes crinkle up, and there are these little lines…Oh, and when he says certain words, or when he’s smiling and makes this kinda “ah” sound, his upper lip quirks up to the left and it’s so fuckin’ cute and really…” He trails off when he sees Charlie grinning at him like a loon. He thinks he’s answered her question a little too well. “Uh, so yeah, he’s pretty hot.”

“Yeeeeah. So, what’s the problem?”

Dean shrugs, squeezing closer to Charlie as a large group of twenty-somethings pass them. “He’s great, it’s just...I dunno. I have a hard time trusting people. You know how it is in the business, Charlie. Everyone wants this”—he circles his face with a finger—“and no one wants this”—he taps his temple.

“I don’t think your face matters too much to Cas,” Charlie muses. 

“Yeah. Guess you’re right. I dunno. Maybe being on guard is just a habit.” He grabs the thick, braided brass door handle and pulls it. They enter into the blessed relief of the air conditioning.

“Seems to me that some habits are meant to be broken, hmm?” She points a finger at him, eyeing him sharply. 

“Yeah.”

Dean glances around the crowded foyer and sees Cas in a corner, Zepp at his feet. The sparks in his chest that he’s all-too-familiar with now float through his veins, making him tingle all over. “There he is. Come on, you’re gonna love him.”

“Just like you do,” she murmurs. Dean chooses to ignore it.

Charlie does love him, of course, declaring him her best friend within minutes. Cas is sincere and honest with a side of snark, and soon Charlie is diving in with question after question about his condition, about Zepp, about his family and his job, and though Dean knew most of it, he still learns a thing or two. A few drinks and appetizers into their evening, she asks about dating.

“Sooo, dating. Do you? How much? And who?”

“Charlie, for fuck’s sake, you want him to give you a blood sample, too?”

“It’s okay, Dean.” He rests a hand on Dean’s shoulder to settle him. It feels like his skin has been seared from the inside out, the sparks in his body drawn to the spot. Cas drops his hand much too soon for Dean’s liking as he continues, “I don’t date much. I have been on dates over the years, and I have had a couple of relationships, but most people are a bit put off by my visual impairment.”

“Oh my gosh, jerks! Why? You are _dreamy_.”

Cas chuckles. “Well, the dream turns into a nightmare once they realize I can’t do all the things a sighted person can do. I’m a little more work than the average boyfriend. A lot, probably.”

Dean frowns. Yeah, they’ve had to rearrange things sometimes, avoid certain activities, and if they do need to use a car, Dean drives. But who cares? Surely those are small things compared to what someone gets when they get to have Cas. 

“And I can’t even tell them how nice they look.”

Charlie scoffs and Dean scowls. “That’s dumb, dude.”

Cas turns to him, and though he knows those eyes can’t see him, they still seem to, in a way that goes beyond physical sight. “It is, but some people get really upset about it. I mean, you’re supposedly quite physically attractive, Dean, but I can’t really tell you that you look good the way others can. I mean, I could comment on the way your skin feels, or how big your muscles are, or that you smell nice. That’s how I judge physical attractiveness now. But I have found, surprisingly, that most people don’t relate to that all that well. They want to know how they _look_ to their lover, or to the world, or whatever. It’s strange to me, because attractiveness is more than just physical. The most physically attractive person in the world can look ugly if they have a bad personality. But no one wants to hear how beautiful I think their soul is, how their beauty to me is how they treat me and other people. Apparently, that’s ‘nice’ but not seen as sincere, or not an adequate sign of my attraction or how attractive they are. I guess I don’t offer enough of an ego boost.” He shrugs. 

As Charlie responds in some indignant Charlie way, Dean ponders the man beside him and everything he just said. Dean works in a world where beauty _is_ the measure of a person. He’s grateful for his attributes, sure, because they’ve helped him support himself comfortably. But it feels fucked up, too, to sell cologne or clothing or a damn _car_ based on his appearance. Maybe people see him and wish they were him, think they could be him or people will see them that way if they buy this product. But Dean wishes that people saw him for _him_ , that people bought whatever product because they saw how trustworthy he is, what a good guy he is. Always being judged on his appearance has fucked with his head. 

But not everyone does that, right? There must be other people who can see beyond his surface, who would want him for him. There have to be other people like Cas that he could date.

Or maybe he could just date Cas.

“So I’ve pretty much decided not to bother with dating.”

Or maybe not _._

“Aww, don’t let assholes get you down, Cas!”

“I’m okay. I mean, if someone comes along who wants the package that was banged up before it got to their door, then great, but I’m not going out looking for someone who’s just going to return me for a refund.” He smiles, but there’s sadness behind it. At least that’s what Dean sees. “Although...if they want to manhandle my contents before they send me back, I’d appreciate it.”

Charlie screeches, drawing everyone’s attention to their table (which is pretty impressive considering how loud the bar is). Cas laughs so hard that Zepp perks up and peers at him with a tilt of his head. 

Dean watches him, seeing all that beauty on the inside and wondering how no one else does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone want to manhandle Cas’ contents for him? 😂
> 
> Also, the thing that Dean describes Cas doing with his mouth when he speaks is a Misha trait. Watch for it, lol! (I did have to ask some friends to make sure I wasn’t imagining it, and they did all the research for me. It was quite the sacrifice they made for me.)


	4. October 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let them eat cake.

“I shit you not. We had an actual Christmas tree. In July. It had flip flops and sunglasses on it and everything. And at midnight, after the Julymas celebration was over and it was officially August, me and Cas and my brother hauled that fucking thing outside, and it was gone the next day. I bought Cas dinner and a shitload of air freshener.”

Benny, the bartender with the Cajun accent they’ve gotten to know over their many trips here, grins and shakes his head. “Well, well, that’s quite the holiday. Can’t believe y’all kept that tree all that time.”

“Yeah. Well, he did. Just to spite me, I think.”

With a chuckle, Benny says, “You got yourself an independent one there, don’t ya?”

“I do,” Dean replies with a soft grin before it falls. “Well, I mean, he’s not _mine_. We’re just friends.”

“Really? Y’ain’t gonna get grief from me about it, brother.”

“Yeah, no, it’s not that. We really are just friends.”

“You sure, now? You guys look awfully close.”

Dean thumbs at the label of his seasonal ale. It has cinnamon and cloves in it, like a yeasty, hoppy pumpkin pie. “Yeah. We are close, but...” He shrugs a shoulder. 

“Uh oh. I know that look.” The beefy bartender pulls out an orange plastic bowl with bats on it and offers it to Dean. He takes a handful of Hershey miniatures from it. “You wanna talk, brother?”

“Nothing to discuss, really.”

“No?”

“Nah.” Dean unwraps a Special Dark and pops the entire thing in his mouth. He fiddles with the wrapper for a moment before he bursts. “So like, the thing is, Cas is fucking amazing, okay? He’s lightning in a bottle. He’s smart, and fun, and he’s a great listener when I’m bitching about the stupid work shit I always bitch about, and he makes a mean meatloaf. What do I have to offer? I mean, I make a decent living, sure, so I have money, but he does, too, so who cares? I have a house and a cool car, but he doesn’t care about that, either. I have my looks, which have always gotten me places, but that won’t help me here. All I got is me, without the frosting, you know? Just plain old cake.” He pops a Krackle in his mouth and pouts.

“People like plain cake, you know. ‘Sides, it’s the cake that holds it all together. Who wants just a glob of frosting on a plate? Most people care about more than looks and all the material stuff.”

“I haven’t met ‘em,” Dean huffs. “Except for Cas, of course.”

“You been meetin’ the wrong people, then.”

“Probably.” Dean takes a sip of his beer. “I’ve always relied on the physical to smooth the way, you know? Kinda needed to. Don’t really have other stuff to offer.”

“Course you do.”

Dean sighs and stares at the grain on the bar top. His eyes unfocus. “Not really. I’m a high school dropout. I’ve had a total of four partners that lasted more than a night, and two of those were from high school. Everyone else has been one-nighters. When my agent discovered me, I was working three jobs, none of ‘em going anywhere. And what I do now? There’s nothing fascinating about standing in one spot for hours, shivering because they keep spraying me with a hose to keep me wet just so they can get the perfect shot of my chest.”

“Aww, cher, you got more’n that goin’ for ya. Why would your man hang out with you otherwise? Must be doin’ somethin’ to keep ‘im around.”

The label falls off Dean’s beer. He crumples it in one hand. “Doesn’t matter. He already said he isn’t looking.”

“Maybe he already found what he wants.” He widens his eyes and hands. “Seems obvious to me.”

“No, that’s not how he said it. He said—” Dean pauses, thinking back to the conversation with Charlie in this same bar last month. Cas said he isn’t going out of his way to look, but he also implied that if someone came along…well, “great” was what he said. Huh. “Well, I guess he might be open to dating. Still. Doesn’t mean I have much to offer. Doesn’t even mean he’s into me, either.”

Benny tsks and rolls his eyes. “Brother, I’ve seen you two in here. That man don’t need eyes that work like yours and mine to like what he sees. You watch when he gets here. Pay attention, now, and tell me that smile he gives you is a smile you give a friend, huh? You watch, and if you can tell me with a straight face that you smile at all your friends the way he smiles at you, your tab’s on me.”

“Ballsy,” Dean smirks sadly.

“That’s me,” the bartender grins with confidence. 

“We’ll see.”

Benny bends down and leans his forearms on the counter. “You know, Dean, you’re all worried about you not being enough. Think he wonders the same thing about himself?”

Snippets of conversations float into Dean’s mind, times when his self-assured Cas seemed a little less so...that time with Charlie when he referred to himself as a damaged package...how many times he’s said he’s a lot of work...how he told him about his past relationships and said “their loss” but didn’t sound wholly convinced. “I never thought about it before,” he admits. “I didn’t think it was possible. He’s so awesome.”

“Pretty sure he thinks the same about you. We all got different opinions of ourselves than others do. You’re a good example of that, brother.”

Dean shoots him a glare before admitting he’s right with a half-smile. Cas is always telling him, directly or indirectly, how smart he is, how talented he is, how hard he works. Dean has a hard time believing it, but maybe it doesn’t make it untrue. Still, it’s hard for him to imagine that Cas doesn’t see himself as Dean sees him: brave, bold, intelligent, beautiful in every way. “I guess. Cas is always so confident and snarky, though.”

“Yeah, well, sometimes that’s a good front, don’t ya think?”

Licking his lips, Dean nods. “Yeah. Guess so.”

Just then, Benny nudges his hand, then points to the door. Cas and Zepp are standing in the foyer, backlit by flashing orange lights shaped like pumpkins. He holds the door open for a bunch of women with witch hats on. One of them says something to him; he nods to her and gives Zepp the release command. Zepp immediately drops to the floor for belly rubs, and they coo and fuss over him...except for one, who coos and fusses over Cas. Dean watches with interest and a little jealousy as she fawns, speaking high-pitched and loud (Why do people speak louder to people with blindness? Dean always thought it made no sense) and twirling her hair. He could probably be her father, or her uncle, at least, but Dean certainly understands her attraction. Cas smiles politely and says something that makes them all say their goodbyes and scatter, then turns toward the bar area to make his way inside.

Dean’s heart thumps like the bass in the song playing overhead.

“Watch,” Benny murmurs. He wanders a few paces down the bar. “Cas!”

Cas smiles as he makes his way toward Benny. “Hello, Benny,” he says. He’s standing a few feet from Dean now, close enough to hear their conversation.

“Hey there. Saw that little witch tryna cast a spell on you.”

Cas’ brow furrows (adorably) before he seems to understand who Benny is talking about. “She sounded too young to be hitting on an old man like me. I wondered if she was blind, too.”

Benny snorts at Cas’ joke, and Cas grins. They chat for a few minutes, then Benny says, “Dean’s just a handful of stools from ya. Figured I’d come chat you up ’fore he hogs ya.”

“Did he order me a drink?”

“Fuck no,” Dean calls, not able to stand being left out any more. 

Cas turns toward him and smiles, and _oh_ , _oh no_. If his heart was thumping before, it’s nothing compared to what it’s doing now. “Of course you didn’t,” Cas teases. “Zepp, go to Dean.”

Zepp leads Cas around the barstools. His smile has softened but not disappeared. Dean wipes his hands on his jeans as Cas approaches. “Hey,” he breathes when Cas is within touching distance. He briefly rests a hand on his shoulder—to show him where he is, of course, not because he’s trying to pacify his heart’s insistent yearning.

Cas leans against the bar and arches a brow at him. “Don’t ‘hey’ me, you didn’t order me a drink.”

“Sorry.” He smiles giddily at Cas’ put-upon grumbling. “Would you believe me if I said it was because I didn’t want it to get warm?”

“Not now, I wouldn’t. Maybe if you weren’t smiling about it.”

“How do you know I’m smiling?”

“Blind person powers.”

“That doesn’t work on me.”

Cas doesn’t answer his question, saying instead, “Well, for your inconsiderateness, you’re buying my first drink.”

“I’d love to buy you a drink.”

Dean’s face flushes as he realizes that sounded like a pick-up line. He tries to come up with a joke as Cas turns his head away, but when Dean sees the tiny smile that he’s probably trying to hide, his heart won’t let him.

“In fact, I’m buyin’ all your drinks tonight, ‘cause you deserve it,” Dean says instead, standing and pulling Cas into a hug because it’s the only thing that will calm the beast caged under his ribs. Surprised into stillness at first, Cas soon wraps his arms around him. 

“I didn’t realize Halloween was a hugging holiday,” he jokes, though he doesn’t let go. Whispering in his ear, he asks, “Are you okay? Is something wrong?”

Dean smiles on a sigh. “Nah, everything’s fine, just...I dunno. Wanted to, I guess.” He doesn’t clarify whether he’s talking about the hug or the drinks.

“Oh,” Cas utters, pleased. “Well, thank you.” They release each other, and Cas adds, “All right, time to make you spend some money on me. Benny, some outrageous Halloween cocktails for us, please?”

“You got it, boss.”

“Let’s go find a quiet table before they’re all gone, Dean.”

“Yeah.” Dean squeezes his arm to emphasize his agreement, then continues to hang on to it to guide him to an out-of-the-way table. “I’ll go grab our drinks.”

“I want the good alcohol.” He tucks his chin into his hand and drums his fingers on the tabletop.

Dean grunts like he’s annoyed, but really, he’s on cloud nine...no, _ten_.

At the bar, Benny puts dry ice in two cocktails to create a spooky smoke effect. He slides them over to Dean and raises his brows. “So, am I payin’ your tab?”

Dean chuckles softly. “Put ‘em all on my card, man.” 

Benny smirks. “Told ya.”

“Yeah.” 

“Now do somethin’ about it.”

Dean sighs. “I’ll work on it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know many might enjoy a glob of frosting on a plate, but I was trying to make a point. 😂
> 
> Hmm, so, does it seem that Dean might be ready to make a move? What might stop him? Do you think Cas has any idea how obvious he is? Is he trying to be? Does he have any idea how Dean feels?


	5. November—Thanksgiving Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big brothers and little brothers.

“Where’s your Christmas tree, Uncle Dean?” Kai, the older of Dean’s two nieces, asks. “We got to decorate it last Thanksgiving.”

“It’s not July, honey,” Sam cracks, his joke clearly meant for his brother. 

“Ha ha,” Dean sneers, though there’s no heat to it. The reminder of the way things started with Cas and that stupid plastic tree makes him too happy to feel any sort of animosity. Embarrassment at his brother’s ribbing, maybe, but Dean’s pretty much given up that, too. All of his family knows how much of a crush he has on the man who’s become his best friend. Sam shoots him a smug grin, and Dean surreptitiously flips him off before addressing his niece. “I’ve been traveling a lot, kiddo, so I haven’t had time to get one yet.”

“Aww, I wanted to decorate it!” whines Dean’s younger niece, Reese, as she hangs off the counter.

“Sorry, kiddo.”

“But I—Zepp!”

The girls rush toward the eager, friendly Labrador accompanying Cas and his family, who are just arriving. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Dean calls out, Sam turning at the commotion at the same time and lunging to rein them in.

“You need to ask if it’s okay to pet him, remember?” Sam gently reminds his children. Dean’s glad Sam got to the kids first. Dean tends to be a little...protective of Cas and Zepp, sometimes, especially when Zepp is working, and he would’ve felt bad snapping at the girls for an innocent mistake (though they have been told many times before).

“Can we pet Zepp?” Kai asks for both of them. 

Cas smiles. “You can do one better. As long as it’s okay with your father, you can play with him.”

They cheer, and Sam agrees but insists on “supervising” them, which is just his excuse to hang out with Zepp. Jess had a frightening encounter with a dog when she was a kid and hasn’t trusted one since, thus the reason Sam can’t have one and takes every opportunity with Zepp that he can. Dean suspects, though, that Zepp might be winning her over with his calm, predictable ways. He hopes so, for everyone involved. 

“All right, good, get out of here,” Dean shoos them out of the increasingly crowded kitchen. It’s down to the wire, all the food ready to be mashed or drained or plated, and he doesn’t need any rambunctious children underfoot. 

“How can we help?” Cas asks. Gabe and Kali offer their assistance as well, while the teens hightail it out of there before they’re pressed into service.

“Cas, you’re on squash squashing duty. Kali, if you’d like to pour drinks, that would be awesome, and Gabe, if you wanna set stuff on the table, I’d appreciate it.” 

“Sounds good,” Cas smiles at Dean.

That smile that never fails to set Dean’s heart on fire. 

Cas has been to Dean’s house enough now to know the space pretty well, but there’s a lot of activity around them and the space is tighter than usual with extra chairs and tables. “The slow cooker with the squash is on the counter above the silverware drawer. You want an arm or are you good?”

“Arm, thanks. God knows I don’t need to accidentally become victim to whatever prank Gabe’s set up.”

“Slander!” Cas’ brother cries. “I haven’t done anything! I’ve outgrown those pranks!”

“Since when?”

His glances sheepishly at his wife. “Since Kali told me I needed to be good or we wouldn’t be invited back.”

Cas and Dean both snicker, and Kali nods. 

Dean leads Cas to the slow cooker and hands him the masher, which he takes with a contented smile. Dean hopes it’s because Cas is happy to be here, part of this holiday tradition. Dean knows he’s happy that Cas is here. “I’ll be to your right, carving the turkey,” he tells him before giving Cas’ arm an affectionate pat and picking up his carving implements.

“Great spread you got here, Deano,” Gabe remarks, setting food onto the table as it’s handed to him. 

Cas snorts and mutters “great spread” as he pumps his (very muscular) arm, mashing like a pro. 

“I’m glad you all could make it,” Dean says, turning toward Gabe and elbowing Cas just enough to tell him he heard him. 

“Us too. It’s nice not to drag ourselves out to a restaurant for dinner.”

“That’s because Gabriel likes to unzip his pants,” Cas interjects as he spoons the squash into the bowl next to him. Kali and Dean’s mom, whipping the gravy, chuckle, while Gabe blows a raspberry toward Cas.

“Hey, I like to be comfortable,” Gabe defends himself.

“Everyone likes to do that after a big meal, Cas,” Dean adds.

“It has nothing to do with the meal, Dean. So be warned.” 

“Hey!” Gabe inserts himself between Cas and Dean and punches Cas lightly on the bicep. “I’m trying to behave here, Asstiel, but you’re making it really hard.”

Cas gasps, turning toward Gabe. “Making it really hard? Gabriel! That’s disgusting! I’m your brother!”

The gloves come off after that, and it’s the most brutally hilarious Thanksgiving Dean has ever experienced. Gabe’s wife Kali and their three teenagers seem used to the banter, and Sam and Jess’ kids can’t stop giggling, even though Dean’s pretty sure they don’t understand half of what’s being said. It’s probably because their dad looks like he’s going to pull his beautiful hair out and their mom is meeting the guys quip for quip. Dean’s parents are taking the whole thing in with contented smiles. Thanksgiving (and holidays in general) have gotten better since Dad sobered up a couple of years ago, but this one finally feels like one he always wanted—everyone’s relaxed, loose, laughing, having fun, without worrying about drama. Oh, and he has a guy he really cares about next to him. That helps. 

After the meal is devoured and pants are jokingly loosened, everyone scatters. The teens are outside, on their phones (at least they’re outside, Dean reasons). Sam and his kids are loving on Zepp again. Jess, Cas, and Kali are in the kitchen cleaning up, at their insistence. Dean is with his mom, dad, and Gabe. Gabe is entertaining them with stories of Cas as a kid, and Dean is enthralled. He tries not to laugh too hard at the stories of how clumsy Cas was, because he knows it was the beginning of the disease that would claim his sight, but the way Gabe tells them is hilarious. 

Later, when his parents decide to chase the grandkids around the yard and the cleanup crew is gabbing, Dean is left alone with Gabe. “Let’s walk,” Gabe suggests.

Gabriel Novak is a bit of an enigma. He’s raunchy and flighty, but also genius-level smart and a family guy. Dean wonders what he’ll get as they take to the sidewalk.

“You like him,” Gabe starts. It’s not a question, so Dean doesn’t pretend it is. He waits.

They walk in silence for another couple of minutes. 

“Dean.”

His tone is so serious and broken that Dean stops in his tracks. “Gabe?”

Even though Gabe is significantly shorter than him, he’s intimidating. “Listen. You plan to stick around?”

“Well yeah, man, but he doesn’t want—”

“Forget what you think he wants for a minute. Are you sure he’s what _you_ want?”

“Yeah, of course—”

“And do you know what that means?”

Dean shoves his hands into his pockets. “I mean, yeah—”

“I don’t think you do.”

“What am I missing?”

“He can’t do all the shit you can do.”

“He can do plenty. And what he can’t do, or doesn’t want to do, I’ll do by myself or with someone else. We don’t have to be attached at the hip.”

“Yeah, well, you sort of do. He needs more than the average person. He can’t drive, so you gotta cart his ass around, and hell, he can’t even get from point A to point B without asking someone most of the time.”

“So? I don’t give a shit about driving. And he gets along just fine on his own. So what if he has to ask for help? Everybody needs help sometimes. Who cares?”

“You don’t actually have to live with his blindness right now, though. What happens if you guys work out, and you move in together? And then you have to live with it all the time? Are you gonna be able to adapt your life to his?”

“Of course I’ll be able to do that. It’s not a huge deal—keep things neat, make sure stuff is safe, make some modifications, help if he needs it.”

“And if he needs a lot of help? More than you predict?”

“I like to help.”

“And if he doesn’t want you to?”

“Then I won’t. Look, he’s an independent guy. He’s lived on his own for a long time, and he has a job that requires a lot of skill, and he’s awesome at it. He has Zepp, and they’re a great team. I wouldn’t storm in and change any of that. It wouldn’t be that different than it is now. I offer help, he takes it or not. We talk. And we’d talk if we were in a relationship, too, just like anyone else.”

Gabe nods and resumes walking. 

They walk for another several houses in silence. Dean starts to wonder if that’s the end of the big brother talk when his companion speaks up again. 

“He can’t tell you how pretty you are.”

“I don’t need him to.”

They walk.

“He gets down sometimes. Went through a few bouts of depression when his sight was going, and a really bad one once his sight was gone for good. Could get depressed again, maybe.”

Dean lets that sit in his brain for a moment, then says, “Okay. I mean, we’d deal with it, just like anything else.”

“It’s not easy.”

“Life’s not easy. I mean, I don’t know what else to say except that I know what I’m getting into and I still want it. _Him_. And hell, I’m no great catch, all right? I just think that we fit, you know, and I think we could keep fitting.” 

Dean stops walking. Gabe turns and faces him. “Look, I’m no spring chicken. I’m old enough to know what I want. I want him. That’s all. I want everything he is, exactly as he is. Will we live the rest of our lives together? I don’t know yet. But I think it’s possible. We...we just _fit_ , like I said. He’s my favorite person. When I’m with him, I wanna keep being with him. I like how I feel, who I am with him. You know?”

Gabriel’s serious moue morphs into a pleased stretch of lips. He slaps him on the shoulder. “Good. Remember everything you just said, because all those arguments I gave you are the arguments he gave me when I said you guys should try a relationship.”

Dumbfounded, Dean stammers, “Wh-what? What—you guys talked about this? Does he want to date me?”

Gabe stares, brows furrowed and mouth agape, before he slowly shakes his head in the most exasperated look Dean’s ever seen. “Deano. Seriously.”

“I don’t know!”

“Yeah, you do. He knows, too. But he’s fucking scared out of his mind, okay? He’s too proud to tell you that, but he is. That fear of rejection—for something that’s not even his fault—it’s a bitch, man, and he’s got that fear. But I think you’re bringing him around. So that stuff you spit back at me, say it to him. Or show him. And...be patient, all right?”

The encouragement of Cas’ brother is like feeding oxygen to the fire in his chest—he lights up from the inside, hope roaring through him. “I can do that,” he smiles.

Back at home, Cas meets him at the door. “I thought I was going to have to set a pie out on your porch to get you to come home.”

Buzzing at the new information Gabe divulged, Dean grins helplessly at Cas’ snark. He’s always known there’s affection underneath it, but now he has a better idea of just how much. He reaches out and pinches Cas’ cheek. “Aww, did you miss me?” 

“No. Maybe.” Cas squeezes his arms as he pulls him in, then helps him shed his jacket. “Actually, it’s not that I missed you, it’s that I was concerned for your sanity after having spent so much time with Gabriel. I’m relieved that you seem as sane as usual.”

“That’s not saying much!” Sam shouts.

Cas shakes his head. “Brothers,” he smiles confidentially at Dean. 

“Yeah. Those little brothers can be a pain in the ass.”

Scowling now, Cas grumbles, “Well, next time I won’t be so concerned for you, and I’ll eat all your pie to boot.”

Pie is a rare treat because of his work, and he’ll stick a fork in the hand of anyone who tries to keep him from it when he gives himself permission to indulge...anyone except one person. With a fondness he knows Cas can’t see but hopes he can feel, Dean says, “It’s okay. You can have my pie.”

Cas slaps a hand to his chest. “You either just confessed your undying love for me or you’re being forced by your captors to say that. Cough twice if you need help.”

Dean snorts and takes Cas’ arm. “I have no captors. I’m just a hell of a guy. So, _is_ there any pie left?”

“Of course there is. I’d sick Zepp on whoever tried to deny you.”

“Aww, you love me, too.”

“I have captors.”

Dean laughs, then follows Cas with affection and awe as he leads him confidently into Dean’s own kitchen, where there’s a dinner plate with slices from all five pies. “Dude.”

“Happy Thanksgiving, Dean.”

“This calls for a hug,” Dean declares, drawing Cas to him by his shoulders. Cas sinks into it, much more natural than he was at Halloween.

“Thanksgiving is a hugging holiday, too, apparently,” he snarks.

“When you present me a plate like that, you’re damn right it is.”

Cas huffs an amused breath. “So, what did you and Gabe talk about?”

“Dumb arguments, mostly.”

“Ah. And who won?”

“Me.” _Hopefully_ , he adds to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you think Dean won the arguments Gabe threw at him? Will Cas think so?
> 
> Oh, and can you guess which bit of dialogue made me laugh out loud?


	6. December

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tree-shopping and cake-sharing.

“ _Now_ is the time you buy your fake Christmas tree. Not July. Better selection, and they don’t stink.”

“Yes, thank you for your advice. Again.”

Dean is leading Cas through yet another store, trying to pick out a tree for his apartment. “Too bad these all suck,” Dean grouses. Nothing seems quite right for his Cas. 

Cas isn’t so enthusiastic, either.

“It’s just a tree. I can’t even see it. Just pick something cheap that looks halfway decent so that I can put it up and call it good.”

“You know, you wanted a tree. Why are you being grouchy about it?”

“Because I’m tired, and hungry, and I don’t care right now.”

Dean nods. “Okay, then. Come on, Mr. Hangry.”

They make their way to a diner on the other side of town, where the food is plentiful and cheap (and not great for Dean’s diet, but whatever). Across the street, Christmas trees are being sold from the parking lot of a long-closed Blockbuster Video. “We should get you a real tree.”

Cas pauses in his bite of his meatball sub. “I have to water a real tree.”

“So?”

“And they’re messy.”

“They also smell and feel like what Christmas is supposed to smell and feel like.”

“A fake tree is easier. I can’t go get another real tree on my own next year.”

“You don’t need to get one on your own next year. Where the hell do you think I’m going?”

Cas shrugs a shoulder. “Who knows where you’ll be? You may be off working or doing other exciting things. Besides, with a fake tree, I can celebrate Julymas.” 

Dean is certain the last sentence is meant to derail him from the rest of his statement, but even it is telling— _I_ instead of _we_. “Well, if I end up someplace for work or go do ‘exciting things,’ fear not, ‘cause I’m coming back as soon as I do what I gotta do. You’re stuck with my ass.”

“Great.” Cas sneers in faux disgust. Dean really wants to kiss that sneer right off his gorgeous face.

“Damn right it is.”

“I’ll think about the tree.”

A few days later, Dean arrives at Cas’ to find a small tabletop feather tree, already decorated in miniature blue and silver ornaments. “Glittery,” Dean comments about the baubles.

“That’s what the salesperson said. Does it look nice?”

“It’s cute.”

“Good. I like it. It feels nice. The branches are soft, and the ornaments feel evenly spaced. I can imagine the blue and silver sparkles look quite pretty against the white of the feathers.”

Of all the questions Dean has asked, he hasn’t asked the one that Cas has unintentionally brought up. He assumed he knew the answer, maybe, or he never wanted to ask and bring up bad feelings. “You remember colors and stuff?”

“Yes. I only went completely blind about four years ago, remember?”

“Yeah, but...yeah. Can I ask you something?”

“Sure. But let’s sit first.” 

Cas leads them to the couch, where they sit facing each other, Dean’s folded left leg pressing against Cas’ right leg at the knee. “Ask away.”

“Um...Do you...do you see them? Colors, I mean? Like, in your mind?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool. So if I said I’m wearing a red t-shirt today…”

“I remember what red looks like. What shade of red?”

Dean glances at his shirt. “Uh...like poinsettias?”

“Very Christmassy.”

Dean grins. “Uh, yeah. And, uh, black jeans, and a red shirt over my t-shirt with black checks on it.”

“What kind of fabric?”

“Flannel.”

“Mmm. And how big are the checks?”

“Uh, about the size of my palm?”

“Nice. Now I have a picture of what you’re wearing in my mind. Other people who are blind might form a different impression, based on their experiences, but because I had at least some vision most of my life, I can see it pretty much the way you probably do.”

“Wow,” Dean says, impressed. He always learns something from Cas. “That’s cool, man.” And it gives him an idea.

~~~

Dean unlocks Cas’ apartment with the key he gave him several weeks ago “for emergencies.” He supposes this isn’t an “emergency” in the strictest sense, but it’s pretty damn important.

“Is he gonna be mad?” Sam asks as they enter the apartment. 

“Nah. Well, hopefully not. Guess we’ll see. Let’s get to it.”

They set up the stand, then insert the very real, very fresh Christmas tree they bought from the Optimist Club on the corner of San Gabriel and North Lamar (Dean thinks Cas would appreciate that the profits go to youth charities). “Perfect,” Dean declares. “Help me decorate it?”

The brothers unwrap the new garlands and ornaments that Dean bought from Amazon and local stores. He hopes Cas likes them. One of the garlands is a gold ribbon that has lights sewn into it. The other is a simple string of red beads that reminds Dean of Mardi Gras. They place the garland just so, then move on to the multitude of ornaments. Dean is grateful for Sam’s help, because he’s quite certain he couldn’t have done this alone—at least not before Cas got home from work.

“This is beautiful, Dean,” Sam says when they stand back to admire their work.

“Yeah, well, I hope he likes it.”

“It’s really thoughtful. He’s gonna love it.”

Dean ducks his head, exhaling shakily. “Hope so. I want him to have an awesome Christmas tree. Make his Christmas extra special, you know?”

Sam smiles gently. “Yeah, I get it. It’s why I nearly break my neck every year to put the lights on the house. Jess loves it. It’s what you do for people you...uh, care about.”

Dean huffs. “Yeah. All right, get out of here, will ya? I got shit to do.”

Sam gets out of there, and Dean gets to work.

~~~

“I don’t know if you’re Dean or an intruder, but either way, thanks for making my place smell so good.”

Dean chuckles as Cas and Zepp come into the house. He wipes batter from his thumb onto the apron he brought from home. “I guess I’m both. Hope it’s okay that I used my key for non-emergency purposes.”

“Hell, if it means coming home to this, absolutely. Besides, you’re always welcome here.”

His belly leaps as those familiar sparks jump out of the perpetually-burning fire in his body. “I got beef stew ready to go.”

“Fantastic. So, what have I done to deserve all this?”

“Exist.”

Cas, for once, is speechless, and Dean, for once, isn’t completely mortified that he said something that could be construed as romantic. It’s how he feels, so why shouldn’t he say it?

“Oh,” Cas finally manages. “Well, um, I guess that was easy on my end. And since I plan to continue existing, I hope you plan to continue cooking.”

“Not a problem.”

“Zepp, go to Dean and tell him he’s being an idiot,” Cas mumbles, his face as red as Dean’s ever seen it. He could tease him about it, but he lets it be. He doesn’t want to cheapen the moment with a joke.

“There’s another smell in here,” Cas observes later as they polish off the stew and baguettes. “Like...pine.”

“Uh, yeah. That’s the other part of my surprise.”

“Dean…”

“Just go with it for a minute, okay? Come with me.” 

Cas and Zepp follow him to the decked-out seven foot tree. Cas takes a deep whiff. “You got me a tree.”

“I did.”

“That was...very nice of you. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

Cas’ snarky, embarrassed deflection of his feelings makes Dean want to kiss him even more than usual. “I’m flipping you off right now,” he says, employing their typical banter to make Cas more comfortable. 

“As you should. I’m being a jerk.”

Dean chuckles softly, his heart completely taken by Cas’ vulnerability. “Can I take your hands? I wanna show you.” 

Cas holds them out, and Dean carefully takes them in his. “Here.” He leads them to a large bird plumed with long, slender feathers. “These are all over the tree.”

“Oh,” Cas breathes, stroking the ornament from tip to tail. 

“And these here are squirrels, and these are owls, and over here are little nests, and pine cones over here.” He guides his hands to each decoration, letting Cas touch them to his heart’s content. 

“Dean.”

“Cool, right?” Dean says, ignoring the awe in Cas’ voice. He didn’t do this to impress him; he simply wanted him to have a tree that he could enjoy. “And over here there’s ribbon that has those little white lights built in. It’s gold and a little glittery from tiny sequins that are sewn into it. And this garland here is red, like that red I was wearing a few days ago. It kinda looks like berries, which is why I got it. I wanted to make sure everything was something you could get a feel for, you know? Um, so, is it okay?”

“Dean. It’s...it’s perfect. I can’t believe you did this for me.”

He sounds so damn sincere and soft that it twists Dean up, and he’s not wholly convinced he won’t combust. “Hey, well, I did. So...believe it, I guess. Uh, yeah. Um, you’ll probably have to keep your presents on either side, just so you can reach the water reservoir—”

The way Cas steps forward and into his chest, molding his body completely around him, is like syrup spreading over waffles—slow, sweet, and ultimately filling all of Dean’s empty spaces. He quiets, folding Cas into his arms. They stand, breathing and holding, until the timer abruptly breaks their cozy bubble. 

“Cake is ready,” Dean grumbles. He reluctantly starts to separate, but Cas holds him firm. “Sorry, I just gotta—”

“I know.” He turns his head slightly, just enough for his lips to brush against Dean’s cheek. “Thank you,” he whispers. Then, with a squeeze, he lets him go.

_It was just a peck, be cool,_ Dean repeats to himself as he walks into the kitchen, slips on mitts, and removes the flourless chocolate cake from the oven—cake that will need no frosting because it’s delicious on its own.

“No frosting,” he mutters to himself with a snicker and a shake of his head.

“No frosting? Is that funny for a reason?” Cas asks. Dean jumps. He was so preoccupied, he didn’t hear him follow him into the kitchen. 

“Uh,” he stammers. “Just something Benny and I were talking about.”

“Oh. Well? Are you going to enlighten me?”

“It’s kinda dumb.”

“I like dumb.”

Dean rolls his eyes affectionately. “All right, back to the living room. Cake needs to cool.”

Dean makes them each a bourbon, neat, and sits back down, handing Cas his drink. “It’s not really a story. We were comparing people to cake and saying how frosting is like a person’s looks, and the cake is who they are underneath. I got lots of frosting.” 

“So I’ve heard,” Cas grins.

“You ever get curious about what I look like?”

“Sure.”

“Why didn’t you ever ask?”

“It’s not important. And I didn’t want you to think that’s what I value about you.”

Dean warms at the comment. “I wouldn’t think that, not about you. So, what would you say I look like?”

Cas sips his drink, then sits back. “Hmm. Well, I know you’re tall, broad, and muscular. You have bow legs.”

“How do you know that?”

“Sam.”

“Figures.”

Cas grins. “Little brothers gotta stick together. Mmm, let’s see. Caucasian?”

“Yup.”

“Okay. Um, your hair is short. You dress comfortably when you’re not working. That’s all I got.”

“Okay, so what about my face? Any guesses?”

“Hmm, lemme see.” Cas leans forward and places his hands on his face. Dean feels nearly breathless as Cas traces his features. “Scruff,” he chuckles. “I thought so. You have full lips. Divot in your chin. Mmm...your nose is mostly straight. No broken noses in your past. You have little wrinkles around your eyes. Are you smiling?” Dean nods, and Cas smiles in response. “Do you have any gray in your hair yet?”

Dean giggles, feeling lighter than air. “Not yet, old man.” He dares to reach out and ruffle the hair near Cas’ temple, which is just starting to hint at his age.

“Hush.” Cas grins as he trails his hands to his ears. “Piercings? I can’t tell.”

“Nope. Had one, but I let it close up.”

“Ah. I have a couple, too.”

“Yeah? I see one”—he flicks at Cas’ left ear, the piercing closed like Dean’s—“where was the other?”

“My right nipple. It’s still there.”

Dean just barely keeps himself from reaching out to find it, wondering why he never noticed it when they hugged. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Never pictured you for a nipple piercing kind of guy.”

Cas shrugs. “I was bored.”

Dean snorts as he paints a new picture of Cas in his mind. 

“As for the rest of you,” Cas says, getting back on track, “it would just be a guess. I’ll say hazel eyes and brown hair?”

“Brown hair, yeah. Like...wet beach sand, kind of.”

“Ah. I understand.”

“My eyes are green.”

“Green? What shade?”

“Uh, like olives, I guess?”

“Very nice. Your frosting sounds delicious.”

A laugh tears out of Dean’s chest. Leave it to Cas to tell him he’s handsome in such a funny way.

“I like the cake underneath the best, though.”

Dean stills. “Yeah?”

“Mmmhmm. You’re smart, driven, insightful, funny, and thoughtful. You give so much of yourself. You work hard and expect so little, yet you deserve so much.”

“Could say the same for you.”

“Someone stuck a finger in my frosting,” Cas jokes, but Dean won’t stand for it.

“No. No, you’re awesome the way you are. It doesn’t matter if you’re blind, Cas. You’re...you’re beautiful, in and out, you know? You don’t give yourself enough credit.” Cas tries to turn away; Dean stops him with a palm to his cheek. “You don’t. You have so much to offer.”

“Doesn’t feel that way sometimes,” Cas admits in a tiny voice.

“I know,” Dean murmurs, lowering his voice to meet Cas’. “I get it. I feel that way, too, sometimes. But I think we just have to find people that like cake and not only frosting, you know?”

“I...I like cake.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

“I mean, the frosting’s nice, too, don’t get me wrong. I appreciate a little extra sweetness, especially when it’s spread over me…”

“Cas!” Dean laughs. “We’re having a fuckin’ moment here.”

“I know,” he whispers. 

Dean suddenly understands. “Cake should be ready to eat,” he says, standing. “Be right back.”

He moves to the kitchen, Cas staying put this time. It’s big, what they’re doing, and Cas needs a minute to regroup, so Dean’s going to give it to him. He plates two small slices, then puts everything away before he makes his way back. They eat quietly other than Cas’ compliment about the cake. 

When he’s finished, Cas sets his empty plate down, then takes a long sip of his bourbon. Dean waits.

“Sometimes it’s others I’m not so sure of,” Cas confides faintly. “Their ability to handle what I bring. Their...willingness to stay once they realize my cake has eggshells in it.”

“Me too, man. Been there. I’m afraid that once people eat all the frosting and get to my cake, they’re gonna find out how dry and bland it is. I haven’t trusted them to actually like what’s underneath and stick around for it. Not enough faith in me or them, I guess. I have tried a few times, put myself out there a little. But when people step on you, overlook you, dismiss you, you start to think there’s something wrong with you and not them.”

“I get that.”

“Yeah.” Taking a risk, he slides his hand under Cas’. “Delicious cake with eggshells is still delicious cake. I’d eat it and go back for more.”

Cas opens his mouth as if to say something, but huffs a short laugh instead. He wraps his fingers around Dean’s. “I don’t think your cake is dry or bland. It’s tender and sweet. I especially enjoy the little funfetti sprinkles in it.”

Dean barks a surprised laugh. “Funfetti. Yeah, that sounds like me.”

“I like it. I...like you, Dean.”

Breathing is only possible because Dean knows he needs to breathe to speak. “I like you, too, Cas. I like you a lot.”

“Me too.” Cas uses his free hand to glide up Dean’s arm, his shoulder, his neck, until it rests against his jaw, his thumb brushing his bottom lip. “Can I…?”

Dean slowly leans forward until their noses touch. “Yeah. Please.”

Cas tilts his chin as his thumb drags Dean’s mouth open. Dean follows, one hand still holding Cas’ as his other cups his face. When their lips meet, they sigh into each other’s mouths. For a moment, they let themselves rest just like that—eyes closed, hands cradling, lips clinging to each other. 

“I didn’t have to touch your face, you know,” Cas says against his lips. “It’s a common misconception that people with blindness do that. It’s actually not that effective, and it’s rude besides. Usually, I would just ask someone to describe themselves if I was curious.”

Dean thinks this isn’t the best time for Blindness Education and Etiquette 101, but he asks, “So why’d you touch my face, then?”

“Because I wanted an excuse to touch you.”

Then Cas smiles, and Dean smiles, and they melt into each other, their fears falling away in sweet surrender.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aww! 🥰 So, did that satisfy your sweet tooth?
> 
> FYI, when I originally conceptualized this story, it ended here, with their Christmas tree and their sweet first kiss. But of course I couldn’t stop. 😂
> 
> Like Cas explained, touching people’s faces really isn’t something that people with blindness do commonly. It doesn’t give much information, and it’s not socially accepted practice. Like sighted people, if it’s done it is generally limited to people with whom they are close, such as intimate partners.


	7. January

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Climbing to new heights.
> 
> (This chapter is NSFW, for those of you reading on your lunch breaks. 😉)

“It had to go eventually. December is over, and it’s not July yet. No more Christmas trees.”

“I know,” Cas pouts. 

Dean understands. Cas loved that tree, and Dean did, too. But it’s January second now, and it’s time. They’ve carefully packed away all of the ornaments and other decorations. The tree itself is the last to go. Austin is doing a special curbside pick-up of Christmas trees, and they don’t want to miss out.

“The year will fly by, you’ll see. Soon we’ll be putting up another tree and we’ll be decorating all over again. We’ll do it together this time.”

“I hope so.” Cas pauses, then adds, “Everyone loved it. I’d hate to disappoint.”

Dean knows the first sentence was the important one, so he responds to it. “We will. _We_ will, okay?”

Cas finds his mouth and kisses him, long and sweet.

It takes nothing for them to find a reason to kiss these days—because Dean landed a new contract, because one of Cas’ patients walked for the first time in months, because Zepp learned a new command, because they’re happy, because they’re sad, because they want to, because they can. The reason for this one is comfort. They haven’t talked much about what they’re each hoping for, but Dean suspects they’re both scared this new thing between them won’t work out somehow. He knows _he’s_ scared.

But Dean doesn’t want to live in fear. Yes, he’s been burned by other people before, and he has his insecurities, but he trusts Cas. Really _trusts_ him.

“Let’s go on a date.” With the holidays, they haven’t had time to do anything that Dean would qualify as a date, and he wants to show Cas how special he is and how much he wants to be with him.

“Yeah? Where are we going? Please don’t say you want to go somewhere where they serve dinner with 237 utensils.”

“No,” Dean scoffs, putting a little extra oomph into it because he knows Cas is nervous they’re going to do something he thinks he can’t do. “Give me one of each utensil and I’m happy.” He gives Cas a quick peck, then continues, “What do you feel like doing?”

“Well, I...no. I guess we could just go to dinner or the movies—”

“Cas, we’re doing whatever you just said ‘no’ to.”

“Dean.”

“What is it? I’m gonna keep bugging you ‘til you tell me.”

Cas sighs and tosses his hands up. “Fine. I’ve always wanted to try indoor rock climbing, and there’s this gym called Crux that’s supposed to be good—”

Dean brightens. “Cas, that’s awesome! Yes! We’re doing that.”

“But it could be quite a bit of work—”

“Don’t fucking care. We’re doing it.” He kisses him to close the matter. 

~~~

“Fuck, dude, you suck!”

Cas lands on the floor with grace. “No, _you_ suck, and you’re mad about it. It’s not my fault that I was born to climb. You’re going to have to learn to deal with it.”

“I’m gonna climb the walls dealing with your ego.”

“If you could climb the walls, you wouldn’t be bitching right now.”

The men burst into laughter simultaneously before Dean pulls Cas in for a sweaty kiss. “Bastard. Drink your water and keep practicing. I’m comin’ for ya.”

“I’ll wait at the top. Don’t take too long.” Cas pinches his cheek, then gulps down half a bottle of water before starting his next climb.

Dean is thrilled that their first date has worked out so well. They started at Pueblo Viejo, a food truck that served amazing tacos (and no utensils needed, thank you very much). Dean’s sides still hurt from that meal—between Cas and the group sitting next to them at the picnic tables, he couldn’t stop laughing. And now, at Crux Climbing Center, they’re having the time of their lives. 

Cas insisted on calling ahead, which was pretty smart, and both of them were pleased to learn that not only is the place dog-friendly (in general, not only for guide dogs), but they work with people with all different kinds of abilities. When they arrived, they had Mark assigned to them. Mark walked through the course with Cas on the ground first, talking about the holds and the type of ascent. Next, he climbed it next to him, guiding Cas verbally. After that, he gave him a full duplex radio system to use, which allowed Cas to communicate with Mark without yelling or even having to touch the radio. Once Cas got the layout of the wall in his mind, he was unstoppable. 

And so he is now, as he takes to the wall once again. He’s not the fastest, of course, but he’s a newbie. At least he can stay on the damn holds and figure out where to go next. Dean has been struggling. He has the upper body strength, but his coordination seems to be limited to horizontal surfaces. It’s okay, though, because he’s pretty sure they’re going to be back a lot, and he can practice.

Dean gives Zepp an affectionate rub on the head. “Your daddy’s got me beat.”

Zepp rolls over for a belly rub.

Once Cas has thoroughly humiliated him, they head to Cosmic Coffee and Beer, on the same site as Crux and Pueblo Viejo. They split a Cocktail Test Flight and gush about their time at the gym.

“We should get a month membership and see if we like it,” Dean suggests.

“That would be great. I actually asked about it and it’s not too bad, price-wise. The only tricky part for me is whether the Metro comes this way. I’ll have to check—”

“Cas. I’m joining, too. We’d come together.”

“Well, what if you don’t like it and I do?”

“Then I’ll give you a ride. No big deal.”

“It is a big deal, because you’re not my taxi.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, do taxi drivers just call you and offer you a ride somewhere? No? Well, I did. ‘Cause I’m not a taxi.”

“Pain in my ass is what you are.”

Dean recognizes Cas’ insult for what it is. “Damn right I am. And as _your_ pain in the ass, I reserve the right to make you completely uncomfortable so that you can do something you enjoy, whether it’s something I enjoy or not. Which, by the way, I _do_ enjoy and I _will_ kick your ass at. Eventually.”

“Fine. But I’m still checking. I might want to come when you’re away on a shoot.”

“You can always use Uber while I’m gone if the Metro doesn’t come out this way.”

“Yes, I suppose that’s true.”

“But when I’m around, we gotta take Baby. She misses you when I’m gone, and she’d be insulted if we didn’t take her.”

Cas shakes his head. “Whatever you say, Dean.” He hides a pleased smile behind his glass. 

Dean smiles and winks at Zepp, who sits placidly and says nothing.

~~~

They _do_ join Crux, and Cas lets him drive them there. 

They _do_ try a fancy dining place, and Cas does better with all the silverware than Dean does.

And they _do_ talk a little more about their fears. But not much. Because they’re too busy enjoying each other to really have them.

That enjoying each other includes Dean checking out Cas’ nipple ring.

“I wanna see it,” he says the night before he leaves for Fashion Week in Milan. 

“I bet you do.”

So far in their relationship, they’ve made out ferociously but kept their clothes on. Dean hasn’t been in a rush to progress things, and neither has Cas, apparently. Dean still isn’t in a rush, but Milan is on his mind and he’s freaking the hell out, as he always does before getting on a plane for such a long trip. He’s gotten used to the short ones, but the long ones are tough. Leaving Cas is freaking him out a bit, too. He has to go to Paris right after Milan, and it’ll be the first time they’re apart for so long. He’s a little afraid that Cas will figure out he’s just fine without him, but he pushes that thought away. He’s here with Cas right here and now, and he’s not going to let his insecurities ruin the time they have together.

“I don’t get to see it before I go?”

“You’re the one who chose this job. I’m not going to show you my nipple ring just because you chose modeling as a career and now you have to leave for some exciting, exotic locale.”

“Caaas.”

“What?”

“Are you punishing me?”

“What? No. I’m torturing you. There’s a difference.”

“Caaaaaaaaaas. Just a peek?”

“No.”

“Caaa—”

“But you can touch it.”

_Oh._ “Yeah?”

“Mmmhmm.”

“Fuck yes.”

Cas laughs at Dean’s outburst, but not for long.

“Dean, fuck,” he pants. 

Dean hums as he rolls both of Cas’ nipples in his hands while working on the underside of his jaw with his mouth. The barbell is fucking _sexy_. 

“Back up a little,” Cas demands. “I need to touch you.”

He won’t hear an argument from Dean, that’s for damn sure. He sits back against the couch. Cas tugs both of their shirts off their bodies, then straddles Dean’s lap. “Caaaas,” Dean moans as Cas’ hands roam his chest.

“So responsive, Dean. So gorgeous,” Cas mouths along his neck. 

It’s been too long since Dean had an orgasm with a partner, and with Cas all over him, he knows he won’t last. So, before it’s too late, he wants to offer Cas an out if he needs it. “Cas, fuuuuck,” he groans, just barely keeping himself from rutting against the clothed cock pressing against his. “Wanna...gonna…if you don’t want...”

“I want,” Cas whispers, unzipping his pants and Dean’s. He takes out their cocks and jacks them off together. 

It takes an embarrassingly short time for Dean to come all over their cocks and Cas’ hand, but Cas doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, it spurs him on, and with the lubrication of Dean’s spunk, he’s soon coming, too. Dean rests against Cas’ forehead and watches as come spurts onto Cas’ hand and Dean’s belly. 

“Cas, fuck me,” Dean utters in blissed awe.

“Maybe next time,” he grins dreamily. “I hope that helps your anxiety about your flight.”

Dean frowns slightly. “Didn’t have to do that.”

“Not why I did it. I just hope it’s a pleasant side effect.”

“Why’d you do it?”

Cas cleans them up with his discarded shirt, then tucks himself against Dean’s shoulder. “Because I…” He pauses. “This is going to sound completely hokey, and if you breathe a word of this outside these walls I will deny it until my dying day, but...I miss you already.”

Dean can hardly believe this man is his. He tilts Cas’ face up. “I miss you, too,” he whispers before pressing their lips together in a kiss he’ll take with him all the way to Europe and back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you’re ever in Austin, check out these places:  
> [Crux Climbing Center](https://www.cruxclimbingcenter.com/)
> 
> [Pueblo Viejo](http://www.puebloviejoaustin.com/)
> 
> [Cosmic](https://www.cosmiccoffeebeer.com/new-menu)


	8. February

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Scaredasses.
> 
> (Warning: some NSFW)

He wonders if he’ll get to celebrate another Christmas in July—or anything else—with Cas ever again.

Cas is _mad_. And Dean isn’t sure why.

All he did was offer Cas a ride to work.

And now he’s by himself, miserable. 

“I don’t get it,” he moans to his brother over the phone. “I offered him a _ride_. What the fuck’s wrong with a ride? I haven’t seen him in three weeks, and when I got back from the airport last night I passed out on his couch the second I hit it. This morning I woke up while he was getting ready for work, so I offered him a ride, ‘cause I figured even a few minutes with him is better than nothing and I wanna spend as much time together as I can before I leave again. He said no! He turned me down to take the fucking _bus_.”

“Have you guys been fighting?”

“No. We talked on the phone all the time while I was gone. Even had...well, you don’t wanna know about that. Anyway, no. We were fine the whole time! Or I thought we were. He seemed excited to see me when I got back.”

“Okay. Were you condescending somehow?”

“What? No!”

“All right, well, I’m sure he had his reasons.”

“Hell if I know. Stubborn bastard.”

Sam chuckles. “I’m surprised he even went to work today. I thought maybe he’d take some time off. You only have, what, a few days before you leave again, right?” 

“Yeah. Even less now ‘cause I was even later getting back from Paris than I was supposed to be ‘cause of flight delays, so I dunno, maybe he’s pissed about that.”

“Maybe. He had to cancel the weekend away he was planning, so maybe he’s mad that you guys lost out on even more days because of the delays and his anger just sort of carried over to today.”

_Weekend away?_ “What weekend away?”

“The one for your birthday. When he found out you were gonna take a few extra days in France to sightsee, he canceled it. Didn’t he tell you?”

“No, he didn’t tell me! How do you know that?”

“He wanted to let someone know where you guys would be, in case of an emergency, and then he called me later and said there was a change of plans and you guys wouldn’t be going.”

“Wha—that doesn’t make sense, though. When I called, he said I should stay and see the sights with Leo!” 

Dean called Cas after his buddy Leo, a fellow history buff and a designer showcasing at Paris Fashion Week, practically begged him to stay for a few days to see some of France’s historical attractions, especially once he found out that Dean had never taken the time to go on his previous visits. Leo didn’t want to be by himself, and Dean felt bad saying no because he was a sucker like that. He was sort of hoping Cas would say no for him, but that didn’t happen. In fact, he was very encouraging, practically insisting, and though it should’ve felt good, it didn’t.

The phone goes silent. Dean pulls it away from his ear. Nope, still connected. “Sam?”

“Dean. Go back and listen to yourself.”

Just by his tone, Dean knows Sam has an epic bitchface on. “What? He _told_ me to stay!”

“Yeah, and he canceled something he planned for you in order for you to hang out with someone else, seeing the sights of _Paris_. Dude.”

“Well, I didn’t know he planned anything! I didn’t think he was gonna do anything for my birthday. I told him not to!”

“As if he wasn’t going to do something for your birthday.”

“He insisted I stay!”

“Well, yeah, of course he did. If the reverse happened and Cas had the opportunity to be out having fun in an amazing place around his birthday, would you encourage him to do it?”

“Sure I would—”

“And yet would you be feeling kinda mad about it at the same time ‘cause he’s doing it in the most romantic city in the world with some guy you don’t know instead of coming home to you—” 

“We weren’t doing anything romantic!”

“— _and,_ on top of that, you’ll get less time with him because he’s traveling more after that?”

“Yeah, I guess that might upset me. But he didn’t ask me to come home or tell me he had plans! He said he was fine with me staying! He—”

“You shouldn’t’ve put him in that position in the first place. Of course he’s gonna tell you it’s fine. He’s a good guy. You should’ve just come home. To him.”

“He said…” Dean starts, though he knows whatever he says will be weak, and he knows he’s partly to blame for this mess. “Fuck.”

“Yeah.”

Dean thunks his head onto the kitchen table. “Shit.”

~~~

Cas has barely taken three steps through his own apartment door when Dean pounces. 

“Why didn’t you tell me about the weekend you planned?”

“You weren’t supposed to know about that.” He proceeds inside with Zepp and calmly begins to unharness him.

“Well, I do, so why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because there was an important element called ‘surprise’ that was involved. I believe it’s next to ‘secret’ on the periodic table.”

“You could’ve told me to come home.”

Cas’ face twists into a scowl. “I would _never_ demand that of you.” 

“You had something planned.”

“Plans change. You got a better opportunity. Why would I keep you from that?”

“Better than a weekend with you? I don’t think so.”

“Oh, come on. Be real,” Cas says, his smirk suggesting he’s teasing but his hyperfocus on untying his shoes telling another story. “How many times will you be in France _and_ have time in your schedule _and_ a traveling companion who shares your passion? We talked about this.”

“I didn’t know you had anything planned, or I wouldn’t have stayed.”

“Dean.” He strides to the kitchen and grabs a glass. “It was a choice between staying there and doing something exciting for your birthday or coming back to Austin. Seems like a no-brainer to me. I don’t know why you’re getting dramatic about a weekend you weren’t even supposed to know about when you had a better deal to begin with.” Cas pours three fingers of bourbon into a glass. “Want some?”

Dean takes it, if only to have something to hold on to while he sorts out where the hell this conversation is going. “Are you jealous?” he asks, remembering his talk with Sam.

Cas scoffs. “Jealous? Jealous of what?”

“Of...I dunno, of me being with Leo?”

“No, Dean, I’m not. He’s just a friend, correct?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Okay then.”

“But—but you’re mad.” 

“I’m not mad.”

“Yes, you are. You wouldn’t even let me take you to work this morning!”

“I _was_ mad, because you were being pig-headed. I manage every other morning. You needed to sleep, not drive me to work. You were completely exhausted from your travels.”

“I wanted to spend time with you.”

“Ten, fifteen minutes in the car? That’s not worth it, Dean. You have to be away again in a few days, and you just got home from back-to-back trips to Milan and Paris. Fashion Weeks are draining for you. You need your rest.”

“I need _you_.”

“We have the next few nights, once I get home from work. I won’t have you wearing yourself out just for a few minutes in the car when I’m more than capable of taking care of myself. You should be resting.”

“Cas, I’ve barely seen you, and I leave again in four days. I need every minute I can get!” 

“Well, I guess you should’ve come home then.”

Dean feels like he’s been slapped. “Wh—what—”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Cas rushes to explain, though he’s walking away from the conversation. 

Dean grabs his arm, stopping him. “Did you even want me to come home?” he asks, his voice cracking as fear races through his body.

Cas turns, a horrified look on his face that calms Dean marginally. “Dean! Of course I wanted you to come home!”

“Then _why_ did you tell me to _stay_ there when you _wanted_ me to come home?”

“Because you asked me—”

“And I wanted you to be honest!”

“And so, what, I should’ve told you, ‘Oh, no, dear, please don’t take an amazing opportunity in a foreign country, come home to me instead so I can take you to a smelly ranch an hour from our hometown that you can do any time at all’? Huh? ‘ _Waaahh,_ come be home with _meeeee_.’ Is that what you wanted to hear? Did you want to know that I missed you so much, it felt like there was a hole in my chest? What good would that have done? Was that going to help you make your decision? No, it was just going to guilt you into coming home. I don’t need that bullshit. You do what you wanna do, you come home when you wanna come home, you see me if you want to. I don’t—I _can’t_ have you doing anything for me out of guilt or obligation. I’ve had plenty of that, thank you very much.” He wriggles out of Dean’s hold and storms to his bedroom, slamming the door behind him. 

Dean curses himself, then curses himself again. He wanders in circles before flopping cross-legged onto the floor. “Damn, I really screwed this up,” he mutters. Zepp comes to him and sniffs him curiously. Dean wraps his arms around the Lab’s neck and leans into him. “Zepp, buddy, be glad you’re not in love.”

The dog sits, solid and present, as tears well in Dean’s eyes. He leaves them there to fall or not, staring straight ahead as his head pulsates with static.

He’s not sure how much time has passed when Cas calls his name, but his cheeks are wet and his mouth is dry. He smacks his lips and clears his throat. “Yeah?” 

“Are you on the floor?”

“Yeah. Zepp, go to Cas.”

The faithful dog walks to Cas, who’s standing in the doorway of his bedroom. “Side,” Cas says, then praises him before saying, “Let’s go.” Zepp stays on his right as Cas shuffles toward Dean in stockinged feet. When they reach him, Zepp stops, and Cas lowers himself to the floor. 

Dean watches Cas as he licks his lips. He licks his own in response, desperate for a drink of water to rinse away the bourbon that’s making his mouth sour. Or maybe it’s the bile in his throat that’s souring his mouth. Anxiously, he opens his mouth to speak. Cas beats him to it.

“I screwed up,” Cas says.

It’s not what Dean expected. Those were supposed to be _his_ words. “No, dude, I—”

“No, I did. I was feeling sorry for myself.”

“Sorry? Why?”

“I got insecure when you asked me about staying.”

Cautiously, Dean takes his hand, holding it loosely. Cas’ grip tightens around his fingers, and Dean breathes a sigh of relief. “Why?”

“It’s so damn dumb.”

“But it’s not, babe. Whatever you feel, it’s not dumb.”

“Oh, it’s dumb. Even I can see that.”

Dean shakes his head as a fond smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Cas.”

“Ever notice I use a lot of humor when I’m nervous?”

“I’ve noticed.”

“Gotta love a good defense mechanism.”

“Hey.” Dean squeezes his hand. “Talk to me. Please.”

Cas pinches the space between his brows. “When you asked me about staying, I thought of how many opportunities you have in your life, and how I might be an impediment to them. I don’t want to be that. I never want to be that. I want you to do everything you want to do, and I won’t stand in your way.”

Dean frowns, perplexed. “Well, thanks, I guess. I mean, I appreciate the freedom, babe, but I’ve never felt like we stand in each other’s way, and you’re definitely not an impediment to any opportunities or whatever.”

“And I don’t plan to be, for as long as I can help it.”

The conversation isn’t sitting right with Dean. There’s something Cas isn’t saying. “What do you mean?”

“Just what I said—that I’m not going to be in the way of anything you want to do. I’m going to be as accommodating and undemanding as I can be.”

Dean shakes his head rapidly, as if by doing so he can get all the words Cas is saying to settle into something that makes sense. “I don’t—what? I still don’t know what you mean. Why are you so concerned with being accommodating and undemanding?”

Cas turns his face away. “Because there might be a time when I have to be accommodated, when I have to be demanding. I don’t want to use up my tickets.”

Dean’s heart lurches in his chest, struck hard by the pain of Cas’ fear. “What? Cas—”

“And I don’t want you to feel like you _have_ to come home and ‘take care’ of me.”

“Cas, I don’t—”

“And Dean, I want you to choose me, I want you to _want_ to come home to me. If you didn’t want to, if you came home early instead of taking advantage of your opportunity just to appease me, I couldn’t stand it.”

“Cas.” He turns Cas’ face toward him with a finger. “Sweetheart—”

“It’s draining and humiliating to ask for things all the time, Dean. ‘Where’s the bathroom? Where’s the deli that was supposed to be two doors down from here but smells like a laundromat? Where’s the shirt I thought I put right here? How will I know where you’re sitting? Will you lead me there so I don’t fall on my fucking face?’ I don’t want to ask for your time, or attention, or any fucking thing. I just want you to give it to me.”

“Cas—”

“I want your love, not your pity or guilt. Don’t call me and ask me if you should choose me or choose something else, because I will never tell you to choose me.”

Angry and aching at Cas’ belittling of himself, Dean sits up on his knees and grabs his face in both hands. “You listen to me. You damn well ought to be telling me to choose you, because you’re worthy of being chosen. You damn well better tell me from now on if you want me, because what you want, your feelings, what you plan for us, it all matters to me. And there are no tickets, Cas. Not with me.

“I know this is all your bullshit insecurity, and I get it, okay? Hell, I called you because _I_ was insecure. I missed you like crazy, Cas, and all I wanted to do was come home. I felt really bad for Leo being alone, and I wanted to be a nice guy, and yeah, seeing France is something I’ve wanted to do, but what I _really_ wanted was to come home to you and just _be_ with you, doing nothing special at all. I called you to talk me out of staying. I wanted you to ask me or even _tell me_ to come home. Part of it was ‘cause I have a hard time saying no to friends, you know that. But really, Cas? I wanted you to ask me or tell me to come home because I wanted to know _you_ wanted that. I needed to hear that you wanted me to come home. Was it stupid and childish? Yeah, it was. But sometimes I get scared that I’m stepping on your toes. I want to do things with you, for you—not because you can’t, but because I love making you happy, I love being with you, I love doing things that help you have a better day. You’re so damn independent that I’m not always sure of my place. How do I fit into a life that doesn’t need me in it?”

They exhale heavily in unison. Dean is wrung out by flaying himself open, and guesses that Cas feels the same. Cas slides onto Dean’s lap; Dean slinks his arms around his waist.

“Dean.”

“What?”

“I don’t need you—”

“Oh, well, great, that’s just great.”

“Shut up and let me finish, all right? I don’t _need_ you. But I do _want_ you. All the time. You _always_ have a place in my life, Dean. A very, very, _very_ important place.”

Dean breathes. He swallows. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck, I want you. All the time, Cas.” He nuzzles Cas’ nose, making him smile. “I should’ve just come home like I wanted to.”

“It’s okay that you didn’t. I really did want you to have fun. Like I said, I just got insecure. Stupid.”

“Yeah, well, me too. We’re dumbasses, huh?”

“I prefer scared. Less dumb, less ass.”

“But you like ass. Why do you want less of it?”

“Mmm, true. Okay, scaredasses. Scared, but still plenty of ass for both of us.”

Dean snorts and presses his lips to Cas’. Cas opens to him; their tongues dance languidly together. The fears that Dean’s been carrying are soothed by their connection, the exposure and acceptance of their imperfect selves, and when those fears grow quiet, that undeniable, deep, sparkling feeling he always has with Cas steps forward. It yearns to speak aloud, and finally, Dean lets it.

“You have my love, you know,” Dean murmurs. Cas stills in his arms; Dean waits, his heart pounding against his ribs, the fire in his chest poised to either warm or burn him.

Cas presses his forehead to Dean’s—they breathe as one, in, out, in, out. When he speaks, his voice is quiet and vulnerable. “I’m giving you one chance to take that back. Otherwise, you’re stuck with me, and all that comes with me, because I love you. I love you.”

Dean swears he could light the room with the joy in his heart. He caresses Cas’ face. “Sweetheart, I want every fear, every stumble, every fight, every ugly, smelly tree you drag home, everything you are. So take your chance and shove it up your devastatingly hot ass, because I don’t want it.”

Cas surges into him so hard, he knocks them both onto the floor. Dean flips them so that Cas is under him, then climbs on him and presses as much of their bodies together as he can. He peels off their shirts and unzips their pants in response to Cas’ urgent pleas. Cas rolls them over, then sucks bruises into Dean’s neck, his pec, his hip. Dean doesn’t care that they might still be there when New York Fashion Week starts. In fact, he hopes they are.

And speaking of sucking…“Cas, oh God,” Dean moans as Cas’ warm mouth surrounds his cock. 

“You feel so good, Dean,” Cas mumbles with his mouth full.

“So do you, babe.”

Cas snickers and pulls off. “I bet.”

When Dean flips his body opposite Cas’ and swallows him down to the root, Cas stops making snarky comments.

The men moan as they pleasure each other simultaneously. Cas seems intent on making Dean come first, so it becomes an unspoken, playful contest. Cas flicks his tongue along his shaft. Dean hollows his cheeks, sucking hard. Cas fondles and pinches his balls. Dean scrapes his cockhead with his teeth. 

Cas runs his thumb up and down Dean’s cock while sucking his head, his thumb’s path slicked by the spit leaking from his mouth.

“Oh, fuck!”

Cas wins.

But Dean feels like he wins, too, as Cas thrusts with abandon and spills into his mouth shortly after. 

He’s won in many ways today. Big, important ways that he’ll never take for granted, because he knows just how precious they are.

“Dean,” Cas sighs once he’s recovered and taken Dean in his arms. “I love you.”

“I love you, angel.”

The mood immediately shifts. Cas scowls. “Don’t call me that.”

Dean suppresses his smile, even if Cas can’t see it. “Why, angel? Why can’t I call you angel, angel?”

“You call me angel again and you’re gonna be ‘princess’ the rest of our relationship. Which will be a very, very long time, if I have my way.”

There’s no more suppressing his smile when he says, “I want that, too, angel.”

Shaking his head, Cas smiles. “Good. I love you, princess.”

“Love you, angel,” Dean laughs. Sure, he’ll be “princess” for the foreseeable future, but it’s totally worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aww, our sweet cakes shed a few crumbs, but overall, they did pretty well!


	9. March

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Picture perfect.
> 
> Happy Solstice, everyone! ❤️
> 
> Thank you for all of the comments you’ve been leaving! They mean so much to me. I haven’t had time to respond to yesterday’s yet, but I will in the next 24 hours or so, sometime after I madly attempt to finish my shopping. 😜 (Some of you will tell me I don’t have to answer, but I like to, so there. ❤️)

He’d rather be inhaling the smell of that awful Christmas tree Cas picked up last July than be here in Middle of Nowhere, Arizona right now.

People think that modeling is glamorous, but mostly, it’s a lot of cattle prodding and criticism— _stand here, tuck this, bloated today, aren’t you, honey?_ —and he’s had it. This isn’t a career he ever would’ve chosen for himself if he’d had other choices that were more appealing, money-wise. He shouldn’t complain, he supposes—he actually makes a decent living, and most models don’t make squat—but damn, he’s tired.

And he misses Cas.

Fashion Weeks are behind him, at least, and he swears he slept for three weeks afterward. Cas was really understanding, as he always is. 

Things are better between them now. Newly-declared love has a way of making everything better. But more than that, they made a promise to talk to each other about their fears, about their insecurities. It’s hard, but they want it to work, and they can use their words. They’re adults, for fuck’s sake. 

Despite his adult status, though, Dean’s feeling awfully petulant. In fact, he’s ready to throw an epic tantrum. There’s yet another shoot after this one, in L.A. He’s tired. So. Fucking. Tired. 

“I’m losing my fucking mind,” he whines to the photographer, Garth. He’s a good guy, calm and easygoing, and Dean’s worked with him before, so he doesn’t even try to be on his best behavior. 

“Yeah, I know, mi amigo, but it should be smooth sailing now. The other model just arrived. We’ve gotta go meet them at another location. Let’s get packed up.”

“Wonderful.” Dean’s been grumpy about this other model all morning. They were supposed to arrive three hours ago, but apparently timeliness isn’t a value of theirs. 

At least he can escape these other self-absorbed dumbasses on this shoot with him. Like in any other job, you have people you like and people you don’t. The models he’s with today fall firmly in the latter category. 

One long-ass car ride later, they settle in to shoot at a place called Cherry Creek Lodge. Dean can’t help but get excited as he looks around. He’s always loved the whole cowboy mystique, and this place is, according to Garth, a working cattle ranch. A group of people pass them on huge, beautiful horses and Dean just barely holds back a whimper of jealousy. He looks down at his clothing...he’s in a fucking _suit_ that probably costs more than what he’s making on this shoot. How he longs for worn jeans and a cowboy hat.

“All right, let’s go!” Garth’s assistant, Bess, calls out. She beckons Dean and ties a blindfold on him. He doesn’t even flinch. He’s held his own balls in tinfoil for a shoot, for crying out loud. If he has to wear a blindfold for whatever artistic vision they have, well, he’s getting paid either way, so it’s nothing to him.

Bess leads him to a spot he presumes is by the lake. He stands there for a good five minutes. While he waits, he lets his mind wander to Cas...Cas and all the naughty things he wants to do to him when he gets home...and _shit_ , he needs to stop thinking about his boyfriend. The last thing he needs is for Garth to have to photoshop his chub out of every picture.

He senses movement in front of him and someone whispering, but he can’t make out the words. Not for him, he assumes, so he ignores them and waits.

“Okay, Dean, turn to your left...good. I’m gonna have you take off your jacket, slowly...yup...hold that...and let it fall...okay, lick and bite that bottom lip, like you’re flirting...yup, okay.”

The shutter clicks. The whispers continue.

“Unbutton your shirt, one at a time—don’t take it off, you’re gonna let it hang open, but gimme seduction.”

Dean follows Garth’s instructions, his body going through the motions but his mind not into it.

“Now, stretch back, hands in your hair, like you’re rinsing it in the shower.”

Dean does so, and startles when large, warm hands alight on his chest. The hands trail up his pecs and onto his shoulders. Dean swallows. The touch is so...intimate. Familiar. 

“Hands clasped behind your back, Dean,” Garth calls. “Good. Now, on your knees.”

He’d like to make a joke, but he just wants this thing to be done. He drops to his knees.

And then, the hands of the other model dig into his hair and _tug_.

Just like Cas does.

He whips off his blindfold. “Cas!” he shouts. Dean ignores the laughter of everyone around them as he jumps to his feet and yanks Cas into his arms, knocking a hat off his head in the process. “Why are you here?”

“To surprise you.”

“But how?”

Cas steps back and arches a brow. “Unicycle.”

“Ass. I mean how, like, how...I mean, not _how_ , but how—”

“Blind people travel, Dean.”

“I didn’t mean _that_ , sweetheart, you know that, I just—how—”

“Dean, let me help you.” Cas holds his head at the nape and takes his chin in his other hand. “‘Cas, I’m so happy you're here, I missed you,’” Cas “speaks” for him, moving his mouth as if he’s saying the words. 

Dean wraps his arms around him again and rocks them from side to side. He presses his lips to his temple. “Cas, I’m so happy you’re here. I missed you and I love you, you bastard.”

“Much better.”

Dean hears Garth clicking, but he ignores it in favor of burying his nose in Cas’ hair and breathing him in. The smell of his shampoo comforts him in a way Dean hadn’t noticed until now. “Fuck, Cas, you don’t know how much I missed you.”

“I have an idea.” He squeezes him hard around his waist, then tickles his bare flesh. Dean giggles and squirms and hugs him tighter.

“Charlie made the arrangements,” Cas explains when they finally allow a couple of inches between them. “My plane had mechanical problems, so I’m later than expected. Sorry.”

“Don’t care, sweetheart, just glad you’re here.” They close the scant space between them once again.

“You guys are disgustingly beautiful,” Garth gushes as he moves around them, snapping. “Face me, Dean.” _Snap._ “Cas, turn his face toward you, lips on his jaw. Yes, good.” _Snap._ “Dean, turn your body, hand on Cas’ hip. Yes.” _Snap._

Cas fingers the buttons of Dean’s open shirt, his breathing slightly faster than usual. He swallows, then moans softly—just a heated breath, really. But it’s enough to drive Dean wild. Knowing Garth is still snapping, he pretends it’s for the camera’s benefit as he begins to unbutton Cas’ shirt, a soft denim number that makes his eyes even bluer than usual. Cas’ breath hitches; he grips Dean’s shirt in his fists. Dean smirks softly, fondly, as he frees the last button and skates his hands onto his boyfriend's skin. 

“Gorgeous, guys. Bess, get the hat back on Cas, would you?”

Dean steps back as Bess fusses with his boyfriend’s outfit, and he just notices that Cas is dressed like an honest-to-God cowboy—brown leather boots, dark jeans, brown belt, the shirt, and a dark brown Stetson. His mouth waters. Cowboy kink _activated_. “Fuck, you look good,” he breathes.

Cas smirks.

Garth takes several more photos of the couple before declaring himself satisfied. “Wanna check ‘em out?” he asks, pointing the screen on his camera their way.

Dean gazes at the photos. Even unedited, they’re hot. In the blindfolded ones, Cas looks like he’s measuring him up. In a couple, he’s holding a lasso, and in one he’s holding a fucking _flogger_. 

Dean’s fairly certain his organs just burned to ashes from the fire racing through him.

The others are gorgeous, too. Some are funny, such as the ones in which Cas is holding his chin and talking, Dean’s brows comically furrowed. Others are sexy, like the two of them fingering each other’s shirts, their groins angled toward one another. Still others are sweet, like the moment when Dean whipped off his blindfold and saw Cas standing above him and the ones where Dean couldn’t help but cradle his face and kiss him. 

Dean loves them all. He only wishes Cas could see them.

“Describe them to me,” Cas urges him.

So he describes every single one, Garth and Bess looking on with smiles. When he’s done, they melt into each other’s arms, muttering _I love you_ s.

“I wish you’d come to see me in L.A. instead,” Dean tells Cas once everyone’s cleaned up and Zepp, who’d been hanging out with makeup artist Tessa, has joined them. “We could’ve spent a few days after. Unless you’re going to L.A.?” he asks hopefully.

“I’m not,” Cas says. 

Dean pouts. “Oh.”

“But you’re not, either.”

“I’m not?”

“The whole L.A. thing was a lie that Charlie and I cooked up together.” He stretches his arm behind him in a wide arc. “We’re staying here for a few days to get the full cowboy experience.”

Dean gasps. Cas grins.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, love.”

“But—but it’s March.”

“And we didn’t get to celebrate in February with your work schedule.”

“I know, but I thought we agreed we weren’t doing anything special…”

Cas shrugs. “ _You_ agreed. I had my fingers crossed.”

“You little shit,” Dean laughs, picking up Cas and twirling him. “I love the hell out of you.”

“And I you. Come on, John Wayne.”

~~~

Dean finds out quickly—and hilariously—that Cas is scared to death of horses.

“It’s so fucking big.” 

“That’s what he said.”

“You know what else he said? He said you can do it alone if you keep making jokes, so shut it.”

“Shutting it.”

Their guide, Nancy, is great, helping Cas onto a very gentle black-and-white horse named Nibbles. Dean hops onto a feistier golden horse named Gunnar. “We’re going to make this a wonderful time for you both,” Nancy assures them.

And though it’s not Cas’ cup of tea (the poor guy holds onto the reins as if he’s a granny on a ten-lane highway and goes about as slow as one), they do have a great time. Dean describes all the scenery around them and smiles when Cas says he can picture how beautiful it is.

Cas has their days packed with activities. He skips out on other horse-related exploits for himself, but cheers Dean on when he participates in the team penning and sorting activities with other guests of the ranch. Dean manages to get six of them where they’re supposed to be, which he figures is pretty good considering it’s his first time. 

They fish out on Lake Sharon, which is made even better with making out while they wait for the fish to bite. He already loves fishing way more with Cas than by himself or with his dad or Uncle Bobby.

They do a guided UTV historical tour of the area, where Dean nerds out over the Native American sites and Cas calls him cute.

They try out archery, and Cas blushes when Dean wolf whistles at him as the guide helps him aim and gloats when he gets a higher score than Dean does. (It’s not Dean’s fault he’s distracted by Cas’ hands, especially when he knows how skilled those hands are.)

Nights, too, are full. They do campfires and marshmallow roasts, songs and snuggling under the stars. Dean tells him how brilliant they are, and Cas tells him how brilliant he is, and there’s no stargazing after that.

All of the activities are great, but the best part of the whole trip is spending time with Cas, who went all-out on this trip to make Dean happy when all Dean ever really needs is him.

“Cas?” Dean asks him as they’re lying in bed together, spent and sweaty. Zepp is curled up in front of the gas fireplace, and the air is thick with love and warmth.

“Hmm?”

“Do you think about the future?”

“Sure. Though I am disappointed that I don’t have a self-driving spaceship or a robot maid named Rosie yet.”

Dean snorts and holds Cas closer to reassure him. By his flippant response, he’s nervous. “I mean our future.”

“You can have a spaceship, too.”

“Cas.”

Sighing, Cas nods against Dean’s collarbone.

“What do you think of when you think of our future?” 

“I think of odors that I won’t be able to get out of my sinuses for months.”

“You don’t think of dude ranches.”

“No.” Cas snuggles closer, resting his hand on Dean’s neck and seeking out the short hairs he loves to stroke. “I think of surprising you with things I know you’ll love. I think of doing things I’m terrified of doing because they’re important to you. I think of how much I might have to rely on you—”

“Cas.”

“—and how you’ll say ‘Cas’ every time I bring it up because you’re annoyed with me, and how you’ll remind me every time that you love me and that we rely on each other.”

Dean’s nose prickles. He plants a kiss on Cas’ hair. “Damn right I will.”

“I think of us being with our families together, figuring out how to split holidays.”

“Yeah,” he rasps through a tightening throat.

“I think of coming to see you at your wildly-successful restaurant.”

“That’s just a pipe dream,” he mutters, though it’s one he’s harbored for years and one he’s talked about extensively with Cas and, recently, with Benny, who has a similar dream. Cas has been extremely supportive, even suggesting that they talk to someone about financing and check out some sites in Austin and the surrounding areas. 

Cas ignores his feeble protest, as he usually does. “And I think of this. Being together in bed, or on the couch, or on vacation, or on the side of the road for an impromptu picnic, or on one of those long porch swings, sharing lemonade.”

Sometimes he loves Cas so much he’s certain it can’t be real, that he’s experiencing a fever dream. Yet here Cas is, talking about their future with all the clarity and certainty of someone who’s very awake and very in love. With him. Dean slumps down the bed until he’s face-level with Cas. “Move in with me.”

A quiet gasp is Cas’s response. Dean waits for Cas to gather his thoughts (and, probably, his arguments).

“Oh, Dean, I—I didn’t say all that to pressure you—”

With a hand on his face, Dean tilts Cas’ head and meets him, forehead to forehead. It’s their way of looking into each other’s souls (“my windows are all blacked out,” Cas had joked, referring to his eyes, “so we’ll have to mindmeld instead”). “I’ve been thinking about this a long time, angel. Knowing you see and want the same future I do just makes me want this more. Move in with me, Cas.”

Cas smiles shyly. “As you wish, princess.”

As they fall asleep after round two, Dean thinks of all the things he needs to do when he gets home. Renting a moving truck is the first on his list.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeehaw!
> 
> If you want to check out this ranch, here it is! [Cherry Creek Lodge](https://cherrycreeklodge.com/)


	10. April-May

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ups and downs and ups.
> 
> Hanukkah begins tonight! A Happy Hanukkah to all who celebrate. 
> 
> A bit of a warning at the end for those who might need it. ❤️
> 
> Also: Quite NSFW. 😘

“It’s a Christmas tree.”

“In April?”

“It’s an Easter tree.”

“What, are you gonna have a tree up year-round now?”

Dean slaps Gabriel’s hand away from the white feather tree, festooned for the season with tiny, pastel egg ornaments. “Maybe. Now shut up and help me set the table.”

They’re hosting Easter dinner at the home Dean and Cas now share. Cas still has a lease on his apartment until the end of June, but they wanted to be together as soon as possible, so he moved in when they got back from their ranch vacation. It’s been fantastic to wake up with Cas every morning and go to bed with him every night—well, every night he’s not traveling, anyway. Cas has said he isn’t bothered by Dean’s travels, but has also admitted he prefers him to be at home—and that makes it nearly impossible for Dean to leave most of the time. Being home is just so much more appealing. 

Cas’ parents, Keith and Diane, are here, and so far, so good on that front. Diane shares his interest in history and enjoys hearing the modeling world gossip, and Keith just seems content to be around his kids and grandkids. They’ve been in Austin for about a week, bouncing between their place and Gabe and Kali’s. More than once, Diane has told Dean how much she likes him, and she told him that Keith likes him, too. Dean’s glad for it. Though he knows that Cas finds them overbearing in their concern at times (it’s why he moved to Austin for college in the first place, Gabe following later because he met Kali during a visit here), he also knows that it would sadden Cas if his parents didn’t approve. 

But they do approve, and Dean’s parents approve, and their siblings approve. It makes Dean happy and confident that they’ll approve of other things Dean has in mind.

Like Thanksgiving, lunch is lively. Afterward, they have a hunt for all of the kids, Gabe and Kali’s teens included (Dean had his doubts, but Cas assured him they’d love it and he was right). When the kids have found all of the candy-filled eggs, Dean and Cas serve the multiple desserts that Dean insisted on (and Cas indulged him on). 

Everything is awesome...until it’s not.

“Shit!” 

Hearing Cas above the noise of their families chatting and praising dessert, Dean sprints inside to find Cas sprawled on the floor of Dean’s sunken living room. “Cas! You okay?” 

“Yeah…” He hisses through his teeth as he rolls over and sits up. “Maybe not.” He grabs his ankle.

Everyone followed Dean inside to see what the hubbub was, and now they’re all watching Cas and asking questions. Dean knows it’s out of concern, but he can’t help the protectiveness that flares in his chest. He blocks their view with his body and speaks to Cas softly. 

“Can you walk on it?”

“I don’t know.” 

“Wanna try?”

“Yeah, okay.”

“You got it or you want an arm?”

Cas winces as he shifts. “Arm, please.”

Dean helps him stand and, nope, no walking. Not without him crying out in pain, anyway. Several of their family members want to help, Dean can tell, but his warning scowl keeps them away. Dean knows him well enough to know that Cas doesn’t want a crowd of people fussing over him.

“We gotta get this checked out.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“Cas, you’re a PT. You know we need to get it checked.”

“Dean.”

“Cas.”

One grumpy and reluctant acquiescement later, Dean takes Cas to the hospital. Luckily, it’s only a sprain. Unfortunately, that’s still a pretty complicated issue for Cas.

He falls into a funk.

Dean does what he does.

“I’m so fucking mad at myself,” he gripes to Sam over lunch a couple of weeks after Cas’ injury. “I should’ve found a new place before having him move in, one that’s more suitable.”

“Dean, he said himself that he was going too fast. It could’ve happened to anybody.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t change the fact that I should’ve thought this through.”

“You _did_ think it through. But you can’t predict everything.”

“Yeah, well, I sure as hell should’ve predicted that he could fall over a step that he couldn’t fucking see. Should’ve gotten those tactile warning strips, even if he didn’t want them—”

“He doesn’t blame you.”

“That doesn’t help.”

Sam sighs as he stabs at his taco salad. “Dean. You’ve changed the way you live, you’ve made a ton of modifications to the house—”

“Yeah, and?” Dean growls, feeling defensive. If Sam says one word about this being too much for him or suggests he dump Cas, he’s in for the verbal lashing of his life.

“And accidents happen. He’s down about it, yeah. So talk about that instead of blaming yourself for an accident. An _accident,_ Dean.”

He pushes his bland chicken and steamed broccoli away, no longer in the mood to eat. “He’s so bummed,” Dean moans quietly. “He’s doing fine physically, making progress, but he’s so mopey. He wouldn’t be feeling this way if this hadn’t happened, and this wouldn’t have happened if I’d found a new place first, or if I’d gone in to keep an eye on him or insisted he take Zepp or use his cane ‘cause the house is still new to him—”

“Oh my God, listen to yourself. Watching over Cas? Telling him he had to take his dog with him or use his cane? Are we talking about the same person?”

Logically, Dean knows Sam is right. No way in hell would Cas allow any of that. 

“Just talk to him.”

“Yeah, okay.”

~~~

“Self-centered much?”

“What?”

“You think I’m depressed because eight years ago you didn’t predict you’d live with a blind guy and moved into a house with a sunken living room? No. I’m depressed because eight years ago I could’ve still seen that damn step, at least a little bit. I’m depressed because I didn’t pay attention like I should’ve and now I’m a burden to you, my workplace, and myself. That’s why I’m depressed.”

Dean feels utterly powerless. He can’t do anything about Cas’ blindness, and he can’t seem to make him feel like he isn’t a burden. He can’t help at all. “I’m sorry, Cas.”

“For what? I just told you this isn’t your fault.”

“For...not being enough to make you feel better.”

Cas’ face falls. “Dean, sweetheart, no. That’s not how this works. My brain and I are at odds right now, but I’ll work it out. It has nothing to do with you. You are the best thing in my life. _I’m_ sorry I’m like this right now. This injury just has me on a spiral. It’s poking at every single fear I have, and it’s draining. But it’s not you.” Cas heaves a huge sigh. “Did I ever tell you I went through a major depression once I lost my sight totally?”

Gabe had mentioned it, but Cas had never said a word and Dean figured it wasn’t his place to ask. “No.”

“Well, I did. I’ve had a few times in my life when depression has reared its head. It’s definitely not as bad this time as it’s been in the past, but I feel like I’m in that space, or heading toward it, anyway. I’m working on it, though. I won’t stay down.” He opens his hand to Dean, and Dean takes it. Cas gives it a squeeze. “It’s not on you, okay? It’s not. I just get pissed sometimes that I can’t operate the way I used to. But I know what to do. I’ve already gotten back with my therapist for a tune-up.”

“You have?”

“Yeah. We’re doing therapy online.”

“Oh. That’s cool.”

“It is.” Cas licks his lips and smiles. It seems genuine. “Where I am sucks, but I’ll get out of it. I just have to work really hard to remind myself that I’ve been here before, and I’ve made my way through. And I think I’ll do even better this time.”

“Why’s that?”

“I have you.” Cas lifts Dean’s hand and kisses his knuckles. “You’re not the solution for this, just like you’re not the cause for it. But having you in my life...it makes me fight this thing harder. You’re my rock, and I’m swimming toward you, okay?”

Dean swallows. Nods. Squeezes his hand. “What can I do?”

“Stick around. And love me. What can I do?”

“Take care of yourself. And love me right back.”

~~~

Healing helps. Therapy helps. Keeping things as normal as possible helps. Cuddling, and healthy food, and getting out into the sunshine help. And soon, Cas has caged the dragon once again.

“Let’s go dancing tonight,” Cas says on a beautiful late May morning. He jumps up and clicks his heels together. 

“You don’t dance.” Dean grins at his amazing boyfriend, the love of his life. He adores seeing him like this, feeling more like himself again. It was a tough few weeks, but he worked hard, and Dean is incredibly proud of him. 

“True. Plus it wouldn’t be as fun because I can’t see you make an ass of yourself.”

“Now what makes you think I’m a terrible dancer? I could be Danny Kaye, man.”

“Please.”

“What? Baby, I got moves that bring the girls _and_ the boys to their knees.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you nailed them in the shins and they’re screaming in pain.”

“Ouch. You wound me.”

“That’s what your victims said.”

Dean tugs Cas close and bumps their noses. “All my moves are for you.”

“Well, you certainly move me.” Cas traces Dean’s mouth with his thumb, then draws him into a soft kiss that quickly escalates. He presses his groin to Dean’s, and there’s no doubt that Cas is feeling better in more ways than one. 

Dean groans into Cas’ mouth. He’s missed this. His hands slip under Cas’ shirt, searching for Cas’ nipples and that little barbell with the iridescent balls on either end. When he finds it, he flicks it in that way Cas loves. Cas moans and thrusts his hips forward, sending a delicious wave of pleasure through Dean...until he steps back. 

“Remember that for later.”

“What? Noooooo...”

“Sorry. I have to go to work.”

“Come on. Be a little bad.” Dean grabs his hand. “Call in sick. Pretend you overslept. Tell them you were attacked by vicious dogs.”

“Zepp is offended.”

“Angel.”

“Princess.”

“Please.”

“I’m sorry. But if you’re very, very good now...then I’ll be very, very bad later.”

Dean’s pulse quickens, and every cell in his body screams as he lets go of his hand. “You’re killing me.”

Cas smiles, as slow and warm as a Southern summer day. “Bring me to work?”

Dean brightens. Cas never asks him to take him to work. “Yeah, of course.”

He should’ve been suspicious of Cas’ motivations.

“Can you stop for donut holes?” Cas asks.

“Sure.”

They get the donut holes, plus bagels and coffee for the two of them. 

“Why’d you want donut holes if you’re having a bagel?” Dean asks once they’ve pulled back into traffic.

“I want to treat my co-workers for dealing with me the last few weeks. I owe them.”

“You don’t owe them.”

Cas bumps Dean’s leg and holds his hand open for Dean to take. “I owe you, too.”

“You definitely don’t owe me.” His fingers tighten around Cas’.

“So you don’t want the hole I was going to offer you?” Cas lifts their hands. He sucks Dean’s index finger into his mouth. 

Dean works hard to keep his eyes on the road. “Fuck yeah, I do.”

“Good. Oh, and if you’re really hungry, I have another hole for you.”

That nearly makes Dean slam on the brakes. “You—you wanna…”

“Yes. If you want to.”

They’ve done a lot sexually, but there’s been no anal penetration. He got the feeling Cas wasn’t open to it, which wasn’t a big deal to him. But now…”You sure?”

“You really want to question it?”

Dean clears his throat. “No, I do not.”

“Good. Think about it. Think about it all day.”

“I’m going to, believe me.”

Cas, the bastard, chuckles. “You do that.” He raises Dean’s hand and resumes sucking on his finger, letting up only to talk dirty about getting dirty. 

It’s a long day.

~~~

“Holy shit, Cas.”

“You like the frosting?”

Cas is standing before him, damp from the shower, clad in black leather-and-mesh shorts and a muscle top with cross and nail head details that leave little to the imagination. What’s not to like?

“Holy _hell_ , do I fucking like. C’mere.”

“Mmm, no.”

“No?”

“Wait.” 

He gives his phone a voice command to play some song Dean’s never heard of, and then he starts _dancing_. 

Dean’s about to set the bed on fire with how hot he’s getting. His pulse races as he watches Cas slowly twirl, bounce, writhe, and caress himself _everywhere_. He rolls his body in ways that should be illegal, then bends over and slaps his own ass. 

Dean whines.

Cas blows him a kiss.

Dean reaches out and thumbs the hem of his shorts.

Cas shakes his head and pulls back. 

Dean whines again.

Just when he thinks he can’t take the torture any more, the music ends. Cas smiles as he licks his bottom lip. “So. You hungry?”

“Fuckin’ starving.”

Cas holds out his hands. Dean ignores them and takes him by the waist, pulling him onto the bed and making him laugh until Dean kisses him, hot and lusty. “Fuckin’ hottest thing I’ve ever seen, Cas.”

“Yeah?”

“ _Yes_.” 

Dean devours every inch of Cas, licking and biting his way up and down his body and grunting his pleasure into Cas’ skin. He’s learned to make a lot of noise to show Cas how affected he is, since Cas can’t rely on visual cues. He used to be shy about that sort of thing. Seeing how it riles his boyfriend up, though, he can’t be bothered to give in to self-consciousness. And Cas makes the most delicious sounds, too, making for one hell of a decadent feast. 

“Dean, want you to fuck me,” Cas pants, and if _that_ isn’t the most delicious sound ever, Dean doesn’t know what is...though the reverse would sound just as awesome.

“Got you, babe.” 

Dean peels the shirt and shorts off his boyfriend (a feat that’s harder than it sounds— _damn_ , his _thighs_ ), then taps him on the hip. “Roll over. On your knees.”

“Ooh, baby.”

Dean chuckles at Cas’ sassiness and slaps his ass. Cas inhales sharply, shifting on the pillow he rolled onto. Dean files that away for later. Instead, he dives into his intended task.

“Ohhhhh,” Cas moans when Dean’s tongue laps his hole. “Oh, Dean, yes.”

Encouraged, Dean continues, groaning when Cas holds one asscheek open for him. Dean grabs the other, stretching him as wide as possible. With his other hand, he searches for Cas’ dick, only to find Cas’ other hand already on it. “Fuck,” Dean whispers against Cas’ hole.

“Soon, I hope. I’m...fuck, Dean.”

“Babe.” Dean strokes himself a few times, then lubes up his fingers. Cas takes them easily, begging for his cock almost as soon as he gets two into him.

“Dean, please. I can take it.”

“Okay, babe.” 

They both moan and sigh when Dean breaches Cas, and again when he’s filled him completely. It’s easy to share exactly how he’s feeling as he pumps into him, his cries too urgent and insistent to keep to himself. Cas seems to feel the same, judging by his own pleasured cries and the way he’s stripping his cock. They come almost in unison, Cas tumbling first and Dean following with a shout.

Quiet permeates the space for some time. The fire that always burns in Dean crackles cheerfully, like sitting in a ski lodge on a winter’s night. He enjoys the comfort it brings.

“Dean?”

“Hmm?”

“This isn’t going to be pretty if we don’t clean up soon.”

Chuckling, Dean kisses Cas’ shoulder, then fetches a wet washcloth and cleans them up, doing it all quickly so that he can snuggle in Cas’ warmth again. Cas rolls onto his back, and Dean does just that, curling into his side.

The room settles into quiet again, though there’s something in the air that feels like it needs to be acknowledged somehow. Cas shivers, and Dean gathers the blankets a little higher around them. “I love you,” Dean whispers.

“I love you.”

They fall into silence again, Cas still shivering intermittently. Dean still feels like there’s something left unsaid.

Cas exhales shakily. Dean sits up immediately and hovers over him. “Talk to me.”

Cas tugs him down until they’re facing each other, lying on their sides. “I just wish I could see you sometimes. I wish I could see the look on your face when you come, or peek at you to make sure I’m doing okay for you.”

“You’re not missing much.”

“Dean.”

“Seriously, my ‘O’ face is more like ‘cat in the bathtub’ than ‘porn star,’ you know?”

Cas snorts. Dean places a hand on Cas’ heart. “Know what I wish? I wish you could see how dopey I look every time I’m around you. ‘Cause man, I love you so much, this smile doesn’t leave my face. It’s probably better that you can’t see it, actually, ‘cause you’d give me so much shit for it.”

Cas smiles and presses their foreheads together.

“I love you, you know. Just as you are, Cas.”

“I know. I have no doubt; I feel it. If I doubted it, we wouldn’t have done this.”

Dean traces Cas’ jaw and collarbone. “Thanks for giving this to me.”

“I had a bad experience before. It’s why I was hesitant. Wasn’t sure I’d ever do it again, honestly.”

“What changed your mind?”

“You stayed through my shit. I trust you. And I love you, and you love me.”

Tears fill Dean’s eyes and spill over. He takes Cas’ hand and brings it to his face. “Look what you’re doing to me,” he teases. He guides Cas’ hand over his wet cheeks and around his goofy, love-drunk smile. 

“Ah, making you cry is what I live for.”

“Ass,” Dean grins. He senses that Cas is done being vulnerable for now, so he switches gears. “And speaking of ass, you seemed to like yours roughed up a little.”

“I’m tactile, what can I say? Actually, there’s quite a bit I like that we haven’t explored yet.”

“Oh? Do tell.”

He does, and Dean is _completely_ on board. He thinks it’s going to take a long time to explore all of Cas’ interests. Maybe a lifetime.

Dean’s up for that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Cas slips into a brief depression (and comes out of it).
> 
> These boys are going to have a happy life, I just know it. ❤️ Two chapters to go! 
> 
> Oh, and if you’re interested in buying Cas’ outfit: [Cas’ Outfit](https://www.spicylingerie.com/em-l9285.html?cmp=spicy-froogle&kw=em-l9285&%20Color%20Options=Black&%20Size%20Options=M&gclid=EAIaIQobChMIp4r-y_Co5gIVHoVaBR0W-wm1EAQYCSABEgIwT_D_BwE)
> 
> And if you just want to see Cas in his outfit, scroll down! This manip was done by my lovely and talented friend [Ellen of Oz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllenOfOz/pseuds/EllenOfOz). She’s a fantastic writer, too! Go check out her fics! (I know this goes without saying, but this isn’t a real pic of Misha (or Cas—how interesting would SPN be then? Lol!) and is just visual fodder for the fic, so please keep it tucked away here. ❤️)


	11. June

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Perfect.
> 
> And speaking of perfect, my pal EllenOfOz made the most beautiful photo manip of Cas for the last chapter! If you want to see it, go back a chapter to the end notes of chapter 10. 😍

“Of course we have Christmas trees, honey! In June, July, any time of the year.”

Dean smiles as he chats with the feisty 60-something salesperson. She probably doesn’t see much action when it’s hotter than hell outside, which surely explains why she’s looking at him like she wants to teach him a thing or two under said Christmas trees.

He had to drive nearly two hours to The Fredericksburg Christmas Store, but he had to see and feel their tree selection up close. He’s not sure what he wants, but he figures he’ll know it when he sees it. 

“So, I have to say, I haven’t heard too many people actually celebrate Christmas in July. ‘Cept for the retailers, of course.”

“Yeah, well, it’s kind of a thing for me and—” He stops short, not wanting to alienate this person helping him. He’s out, personally and professionally, and more people are LGBTQ-tolerant, if not friendly, these days, but he’s never certain of the reception he’ll get. 

“You and…?”

“My fiancé. Or I hope they’ll be my fiancé, anyway.” Just saying the word gives him a thrill. “We’ll find out.”

The woman shakes her head ruefully. “The cute ones are always taken. But that’s a grand tradition. Come on, I’ll show you what we have.”

Dean is still blinking over her “cute ones” comment as she leads him around. He doesn’t hear that so much anymore, doesn’t have nearly the number of people flirting with him that he used to. Maybe he gives off “taken” vibes or something. Or maybe it’s his own view of himself that’s changing, and that shines through and tells people he’s more than a pretty face. He smiles at the thought. 

“What size are you looking for?” she asks. 

“Oh, um, I’m not sure.” He scrunches his nose at the choices. There’s a lot to choose from, but they’re all too big. “Something smaller, maybe.”

She nods and shows him some five-footers, which are better but still too big. He thinks about their feather tree, which he’d thought about using but wasn’t quite right. “Something for a tabletop, maybe? Or, I dunno, something...thinner? I want it to hold a few things, but like I said, I don’t wanna go nuts. I’m probably not even keeping the thing.”

“How about a pencil tree?”

“A what?”

The woman (Ruth, her name tag says) leads him into another room, and _yes_ , these are better. They’re reasonably tall but slim, with enough real estate to hold a few important decorations on them. Dean glances around until he spies what he thinks will be the perfect tree.

It’s about four-and-a-half feet, with green branches that are full yet soft. It’s pre-lit and decorated with pinecones and berries, and it sits in a decorative pot. Dean pulls it out and walks all around it. It seems fairly sturdy, yet it’s lightweight enough to move around by himself. Dean thinks they might even keep this tree. They can use it at Christmas (the real one) as a decoration in one of the other rooms, or outside. 

“This’ll be perfect.”

“Oh, good,” Ruth smiles, pleased. “Now, since it’s Christmas in July you’re celebrating, we do have some theme ornaments. We have seashells, parrots, clear balls with sand in them, surfing Santas—”

“Actually, I already have something in mind, thank you.”

“All right. Anything else?”

“I think that’s it.”

She takes the tree before he can protest, so he follows her toward the cash register. On the way, something catches his attention. “Wait.”

Ruth looks at the ornament he has his eye on and smiles. “Oh, is that what you’re planning to do?”

He hadn’t thought of it before, but it’s perfect. “Yeah. Yeah, I think so.”

“Well, aren’t you romantic. That’s a mighty lucky lady you have.”

Dean hums noncommittally, licking his lips and avoiding eye contact.

“Or fella.”

He looks at her. She winks. He blushes. 

“Thought so.”

He smiles, relieved. “Yeah.”

“Do you want that ornament?”

“Well, uh, I don’t need this one, it just reminded me of something. I’ll be back, though, and we’ll pick up our First Christmas ornament here.”

“We’ll be here, dear.”

He pays for the tree, giving Ruth a tip for her helpfulness even as she tries to wave it away. 

“I hope you two have a happy life together,” she says, finally tucking away the twenty he gave her.

“He’s gotta say yes first.” 

“Well, if he’s half as happy with you as you seem to be with him, that shouldn’t be a problem.”

Dean chews on his lip and shrugs shyly. “Pretty sure he is.”

“Good. And if he’s not, I’ll be right here.”

She cackles and he grins, wagging a finger at her playfully before he waves goodbye.

~~~

The cool air is a small relief as Dean walks into Benold’s, a jewelry store he’s told is one of the best in Austin. Dean is sweating, and not merely because it’s ninety degrees. He’s found The One, and now he’s hoping he’ll find the one.

Sam and Gabe meet him at the entrance. He’s grateful they could both take an extended lunch break to help him shop (or, honestly, to offer moral support and convince him that it’s not too soon and Cas really will say yes). 

“You okay? You look like you’re going to pass out,” Sam says, a hand on his forearm to steady him.

“Relax. He’s gonna say yes, dipshit,” Gabe scoffs as he takes him in.

This is why he brought both of them. Balance.

“I’m okay, I’m okay. Phew. It’s friggin’ hot.”

A kind salesperson offers him a tall glass of water. She’s a tall glass of water herself, with dark hair and eyes and a pretty smile. Beautiful, but not Cas.

“Hello,” she addresses the men. “My name is Lisa. How may I help you gentlemen?”

After a gulp of water, he licks his lips and takes a deep breath. “I need a ring.”

“You’ve come to the right place. What sort of ring are you seeking?”

“Um, wedding bands. For me and my fiancé. Well, hopefully my fiancé. We’ll see, I guess.”

Lisa smiles gently at his obvious nervousness. “They usually say yes, and I don’t know how anyone could say no to you.” 

Dean huffs. “Yeah, well, he’s a stubborn son of a bitch.”

Gabe snorts, Sam chuckles, and Lisa nods, amusement written on her face. “We’d better find a ring he can’t refuse, then. Come with me. Let’s talk about what you’re looking for.”

She asks him his price range and style preferences, then shows him several textured bands. Dean tries on a few, closing his eyes to feel them and trying to picture how Cas would like them. Ultimately, nothing stands out. He frowns. Sam presses a consoling hand on his shoulder. 

“How about this?” Gabe calls. He’s a couple of cases down, peering through the glass. Dean wanders over, and his heart nearly stops. 

“That’s it,” he breathes. “It’s perfect.”

Sam and Lisa meet them at the case. “Oh, isn’t this beautiful? This is a white gold ring with a cracked rose gold surface, all 14 karat. It looks a bit—”

“Like tree bark,” Dean murmurs. “How much?”

She winces. “It’s a bit above the budget you mentioned.”

He’d done some research and found that men’s bands were generally pretty cheap—cheaper than women’s, anyway. Plus, he didn’t think Cas would want him to spend too much.

Well, tough shit.

“How much?” he asks again.

“This one starts at $2,100 for 14 karat. The 18 karat is $2,800. It also comes in platinum for $3,800, but that doesn’t come with the rose gold color.”

“No, no, it has to be the rose gold, ‘cause it looks like bark and we have the whole Christmas tree thing. I mean, I know he can’t see it, but it’s important ‘cause it’s our thing, it’s—”

“We get it.” Gabe, uncharacteristically soft, squeezes his arm. “He’s gonna be _so happy_ , Dean.”

“He will,” Sam agrees. “And he’s gonna love this ring, and all the thought you put into it. Almost as much as he loves you.”

His brother’s and his future brother-in-law’s gentle, encouraging smiles calm his nerves. With a wide smile of his own, Dean turns to Lisa. “I’ll take two.”

~~~

After lunch, he runs to the dollar store for their required Christmas in July tree decorations, then sits in a café with an iced mocha and catches up on work e-mails and calls, killing time before his parents get home. He’ll be meeting Cas at their bar later on, as Cas’ usual nine to five is extended tonight for some continuing education he has to do related to his job. He watches people flit in and out of the café, paying particular attention to the men wearing rings on their left hands. He hopes he’ll be one of them very soon.

Dean lands on his parents’ doorstep soon after they arrive home. They offer him an invitation to dinner, which he declines, though he does snag a carrot his mother is cutting and takes a huge bite of it, doing the Bugs Bunny imitation he did as a kid that used to crack his mother up (still does, he’s gratified to learn). His father is next to her, smiling as he chops broccoli. It’s nice to see his parents relaxed in each other’s presence, not a drop of alcohol in sight. They worked hard to get back here, and despite their struggles, they’re a good example of what marriage means. He thinks it’s fitting that he’s here, asking this favor of them.

“So, what brings you by?” his mom asks.

“I was hoping to get something from you, if you still have it.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

He bites his lip. It’s not a big deal, but at the same time, it’s everything. “Remember that Christmas ornament you have that opens up like a little box? The cardinal?”

“The one you wouldn’t leave alone when you were a kid?” his dad jokes. 

Dean grins. “Yeah. The one you put Mom’s ring in when you proposed.”

His mother and father smile softly at each other. The story of his dad putting her engagement ring in the ornament (and then forgetting where he hid it, finding it months later in the linen closet of his grandparents’ house, shoved behind some jars of Pond’s Cold Cream) is a favorite in the family. 

“Uh huh. What about it, Dean?”

He licks his lips and speaks to his hands, clasped in his lap. “Um, I was hoping I could borrow it.”

His parents don’t say anything. When he looks up, they’re both smiling.

“What for, honey?” his mom asks in an innocent tone that’s anything but.

“I—” He covers his face when their smiles widen. “Stop. You know.”

“Of course we do, honey. We’re just enjoying the blush on your face.”

They laugh, and soon Dean is joining them, laughing at himself. “Oh my God.” He rubs his temples. “I hope I’m not this awkward when I ask Cas to marry me.”

“I’m sure you won’t be. And even if you are, he’ll say yes anyway.”

“I’m sure he’s used to it,” his father adds.

Dean shoots him a scornful look. “Thanks.”

His father chuckles and ruffles his hair, then disappears into their bedroom. A moment later, he’s back, cardinal in hand.

It’s a simple porcelain, with a bird on some sort of branch or log. It has a brass rim through the middle of it, with a small, flowered clasp. Dean opens it, just for old times’ sake. “It’s perfect,” he murmurs. He’s been saying that a lot today. 

“Keep it,” his mother tells him. 

Dean turns his attention from the box to her. “No, Mom, this is special to you.”

“Well, you two are special to us, and I think this would be beautiful in your home. It’s a gift from us to start your lives together. Keep it.”

He tells himself he will not cry, and he doesn’t. But he does have to fight it pretty hard. “Thanks, you guys.” He stands up and hugs them both. “You don’t know how much this means to me.”

“Go get ‘im, tiger,” his father smiles.

~~~

Cas is already at the bar when Dean arrives, so he takes a minute to watch him. He’s dressed in a white polo shirt and navy blue chinos and sneakers, his standard work attire. The pants are a slim fit and hug his thighs tighter than Dean does when Cas is fucking him from behind. “Calm down, buddy,” he tells his dick quietly.

He wanders closer, still watching. Cas could have anyone in this bar, really. He’s got the looks, and people enjoy his acerbic wit. How lucky is Dean that Cas chose him, out of everyone? Damn lucky. He hopes he keeps choosing him.

Benny sees him and raises his brows in question. He’s the one who’d told him about Benold’s after Dean confided to him that he planned to pop the question. Dean nods, and Benny gives him a thumbs-up before saying something to Cas. Cas turns with a smile, a smile meant for him. Just for him. He doesn't waste any more time watching the man he loves.

“Well, hello,” Cas chuckles after Dean plants a long, deep kiss on his lips. “What was that for?”

“Existing.”

Cas cups his face, thumbing his lip before kissing him again. “You sound happy. What’s up?”

“What, I can’t sound happy?”

“You sound extra happy.”

“What, I can’t sound _extra_ happy?”

Cas arches a brow. “No.”

Dean smirks and smacks a loud kiss to his cheek. “Tough.”

Cas snorts. “What a non-explanation. Just for that, you’re buying me my next drink. _And_ ”—Cas kisses around his neck and jaw until he finds his earlobe, then bites it—“your ass is mine tonight.”

Of all the perfect things Dean’s found, Cas tops the list.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One chapter to go! Are you excited for what’s next? 😍 I am!
> 
> Oh, and if you’d like to see the rings: [Cas and Dean’s rings](https://www.simongjewelry.com/products/lg165-men-ring)


	12. July/July

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More to celebrate in July than Christmas. 💙💚
> 
> A merry Christmas Eve to those who celebrate! ❤️

The Julymas tree is up. 

Dinner is made.

The house is clean.

Music is playing.

Wax warmers are scenting the air with vanilla and juniper.

And Dean is a nervous wreck.

“Calm down,” he says to himself yet again. “Cas is gonna know. He’s gonna know, and you’re gonna blow it.”

He pulls off his shirt (the third he’s stunk up with his stress sweat) and swaps it for a clean, dry one. He looks at the clock. Cas will be home any minute.

“Okay, okay,” he mutters. “Pull it together, for fuck’s sake. You got this.”

The door opens minutes later, admitting Zepp and a sweat-damp Cas, the humidity doing a (sexy) number on him. “Air conditioning,” he moans, in the same way he moans Dean’s name in bed. Dean adjusts himself in his shorts. 

“Hey, hot stuff.” 

“Ugh. Literally.” 

Cas shifts away when Dean goes in for a kiss. “You don’t want to do that right now. I’m gross from being sandwiched within the sweaty masses of humanity.”

Dean ignores his protests and draws him close. “Now, see, you think that turns me off, but that just sounds like a really hot porno.” He presses his lips to Cas’; Cas hums. “Hi, angel.”

“Hi, princess.”

Just that tiny exchange relaxes Dean’s body and soul. He can do this. “Dinner’s ready when you are.”

“Great. Let me take a quick shower first, because as much as you like the idea of people perspiring all over me, I do not.”

“You’re no fun.” He pinches Cas’ cheek, then slaps his ass. “Go.”

When Cas comes to the table, fresh-scrubbed and smiling, it’s all Dean can do not to drop to one knee then and there. “You look really good, babe.”

Cas scrunches his face in confusion. “I know I’m blind, sweetheart, but I’m pretty sure I threw on a t-shirt and the oldest pair of shorts I own. You know, the ones you complain about?”

Yeah, he does give him crap about those threadbare shorts, but he’s never seen him as beautiful as he is right now, in the moments before he (hopefully) becomes his fiancé. “You could wear a plastic bag and still look hot as fuck.”

Cas isn’t convinced. “You hate these. You threaten to throw them out every time I wear them. And you don’t love the shirt, either. What is with you?”

Dean shakes his fists at himself. “Must be the heat,” he jokes, then quickly moves them on to dinner, which cuts off Cas’ suspicious questioning.

After dinner, they walk Zepp, then kick back on the porch on a couple of small deck chairs. The porch is too small to have one of those swings that Cas wants. Dean plans to address that, but first things first. And when Cas asks him if he wants to head inside, Dean decides it’s time.

“It smells like Christmas in here. Are you in a Christmassy mood or something?” Cas asks when they come in. No doubt he’s smelling the wax that’s been melting. The smell of dinner overpowered it for a while, but that’s dissipated. 

“Well, it _is_ Julymas.”

Cas frowns. “I thought Julymas was on the thirty-first.”

“Not this year.”

“Oh, it’s one of those floating holidays that’s never the same every year. Like Easter.”

“Yup. The date of Julymas depends on when Jupiter aligns with Mars, whether it’s a leap year, and the number of idiots who blew off their fingers with fireworks on Independence Day of the previous year.”

“Ah. Makes sense.”

Dean gazes at his boyfriend with misty eyes, overwhelmed by how much he loves him. “C’mere. I have something to show you.”

“Oh? Is it leather or lace?”

“Pervert.”

“You love it.”

“I do.” He kisses his nose, then takes his hand and leads him to the tree he bought in Fredericksburg. “Here.”

Cas reaches out. “A Julymas tree,” he smiles, fingering the needles. “Dean.”

“Yup. It even has the traditional Julymas ornaments on it.”

Cas’ fingers bump the rubber flip-flops first. “Oh my God,” he laughs. “Sunglasses, too?”

“Uh huh. And this one actually has some pinecones and shit on it, too. Check it out.”

As Cas moves his hands around the tree, Dean shifts his body away from the branch he’d been hiding. He lets Cas roam for a while, waiting for him to alight on the special ornament. When he does, Dean’s belly jumps.

“What’s this one?” Cas asks, smoothing his thumb over the bird’s porcelain beak.

“It’s a cardinal sitting on a log. Kinda goes with our whole Christmas woodland theme.”

“Yes. Not so much with our Julymas one, though.” Cas grins at him, showing Dean he’s teasing.

“Yeah, yeah. Um, notice anything about it?”

Cas raises a brow, then feels it more deliberately. “Not really. Well, the texture here is different.”

“Yeah. That’s the clasp.”

“Clasp? Oh, is it one of those ornaments that you can put things in?”

“Yeah. My parents gave it to us.”

“That was nice of them.”

“It, uh, it was, yeah.”

Cas starts to move on, so Dean takes his hands and places them back on the ornament. “There’s something inside,” he says, hoping his voice is steadier than the rest of him feels.

“Ooh. Money?”

“No.”

“A packet of lube?”

“Merry Julymas to us, but no.”

“The key to happiness?”

 _I hope the hell so_. “Just open it, angel.”

“Okay, princess, jeez. So bossy.” He finds the clasp and the hinge with his fingers, then gives the top a tug. It opens. Dean’s heart races. He presses his hands together as if in prayer as Cas pokes a finger inside.

“Soft. Velvet?”

“Yeah. Um, it’s a lid. Take it off. There’s something under it.”

Cas gingerly lifts the hexagonal lid and sets it aside, then turns his attention back to the ornament and its contents. Dean waits, watching for the moment Cas realizes what’s inside. 

Cas frowns. His brow furrows. He gasps.

Dean takes his left hand and drops to one knee.

“Cas?”

“Oh my God...oh God. Stand _up_ , you bastard! Oh... _fuck_!”

Dean laughs gently as Cas’ voice cracks with emotion. He knows his boyfriend is overwhelmed and trying desperately not to cry, even as his face reddens and his lip quivers. “Cas…”

“Nooo, no, nonono. This isn’t happening, you aren’t doing this.” He’s clutching Dean’s fingers in his left hand and the ornament in his right, holding it to his chest like someone’s going to tear it away from him. He’s shaking, his breath hitching and eyes glistening.

“Cas—”

“Stop it!”

“Will you—”

“Dean Winchester, I swear to God!”

“Marry me?”

Dean catches a sobbing Cas in his arms. He combs his fingers through his dark hair, rocking him and kissing his forehead. He’s never seen him cry, and to know that Cas is this moved by his proposal...it brings tears to Dean’s eyes, too. Zepp sniffs at them both, checking on them, and Dean gives him a reassuring pat.

“You made me cry, you bastard,” Cas murmurs, high-pitched and watery, against Dean’s neck.

“So is that a yes?”

“Shut up. You fucking know it is.”

Dean chuckles and squeezes him, relieved and deeply content. “I can’t wait to be your husband,” he whispers.

Cas scratches the nape of Dean’s neck, collecting himself. Eventually, he asks, “Are you sure? I’m kind of a pain in the ass.”

Dean knows he’s talking about the blindness and all that comes with it rather than his general personality...or he could be talking about both. Either way, the answer is the same. “Of course I’m sure. I love you. Plus I’m gonna need someone to wipe my wrinkled old ass and help me around our house when I get cataracts.”

“Oh good. The blind leading the blind.”

“Hey, I’m just saying, we’re gonna be together a long time. It could happen.”

“I’m totally making you walk into walls.”

“I expect nothing less.”

Cas sniffles and curls tighter into his chest. “I didn’t think I’d ever get married,” he confesses. “I didn’t think anyone would see me as an option.”

The belief that he knows Cas has carried with him for years breaks Dean’s heart. He had a similar one—that he’d be alone because no one would choose him once they saw the real, no-frosting Dean. “I see you, Cas. You see me, and I see you, and we’re gonna get married and spend our lives together.”

Cas sits up and crushes his forehead to Dean’s. “I love you. I _love_ you, Dean. Do you understand?”

He does understand. He holds Cas’ head to his until the lump in his throat shrinks. “I love _you_ , Cas.” Dean kisses him, hard at first, then soft and lingering. They part on a sigh. 

Dean wiggles the ornament out of Cas’ hand. “We have something to attend to. I don’t know how you feel about engagement rings for men, but these will be our wedding rings, too, so if you’d rather wait—”

“Hell no, I want my ring now.”

“Good. Me too.” Dean plucks Cas’ ring out of the box, then picks up his hand. “Castiel Novak, with this ring, your ass is mine.” He slides the ring onto his fiancé’s finger.

With a chuckle and a wide, toothy smile, Cas says the same as he slides the second ring onto Dean’s finger. It already feels right there, gleaming and full of all the love between them. He picks up Cas’ hand again, thumbing at his fiancé’s band.

“Did you feel the texture of it? The ring is white gold, but that textured part is a cracked rose gold, sort of a brownish color. It looks just like bark. Like, you know, Christmas trees.”

Cas strokes a finger along the ring’s surface; Dean watches, awed that Cas is wearing his ring, that he’ll be his forever. When Cas is done admiring it, he takes Dean’s hands.

“It’s perfect, and you’re perfect, and I love it and I love you, Dean.”

A few fresh tears join the ones drying on Dean’s face. “Perfect ring for the perfect guy. Love you, sweetheart.” He presses a sweet kiss to Cas’ lips, then gives his hands a squeeze. “So, tomorrow everyone’s coming over to celebrate Julymas and our engagement—”

“Confident, weren’t you?”

Dean see-saws his hand in Cas’. “Uh, kinda?”

“Kinda? Hmm. Clearly, I haven’t done a good enough job telling you how much I love you and want to spend my life with you. I’d better show you.”

Cas takes Dean’s newly-ringed hand in his and tugs him toward their bedroom. Dean follows eagerly. He’d follow Cas anywhere.

~~~

_One year later_

Standing in the Bridal Suite (“yours because you’re my princess,” Cas told him), Dean peers outside at the wide open sky, the fields, and the longhorns roaming the pasture. Ranch Austin is the perfect place to have their wedding and reception. Dean had been looking at traditional places, but Cas surprised him by booking this. He told him he’d hoped to ever since he decided he wanted to marry Dean—way before Dean proposed—and that he was so excited he had the chance to make Dean happy.

He loves that sneaky bastard with his whole heart.

He’s fixing his bow tie when Sam comes in. “Ready?”

“Definitely.”

“Good. Your man is waiting for you.”

Dean grins, excited to see him and finally become his husband.

The wedding party makes their way down the dirt path to the arbor. Dean waits, watching for Cas. He’s the last in the party, guided by Zepp (wearing a bow tie and looking freaking adorable) and his brother. When everyone is in place and Cas is alone with Zepp at the head of the path, he scoots outside and walks as fast as he can to meet him. 

“Fancy meeting you here, Big Tex,” Dean says, taking Cas’ hand.

“I reckon,” Cas smiles.

They walk hand-in-hand to the arbor, lit by the setting sun. 

Dean remembers little of what is said, repeating after the officiant some beautiful words he knows he means but can’t remember for the life of him because he’s so entranced by Cas. They exchange their rings again, Dean grateful to have his back. He felt naked without it, its presence a tangible reminder of just how fortunate he is. People talk. People sing. And finally, _finally_ , they are declared husbands. Dean takes Cas’ face in his hands, Cas finds his lips with his thumb, and they kiss. _This_ he’ll remember.

After photos around the ranch—including a few with their honorary groomsmen, the resident cattle—they walk to the banquet hall, which is _filled_ with Christmas trees. His jaw drops. “Did you do this, babe?”

“Do what?”

“The trees.”

“No?”

Dean looks around until he finds Sam, Jess, Gabe, and Kali, who wave at them with cheesy grins. “There are Christmas trees everywhere, Cas, and they’re all decorated. It was our brothers and their better halves.”

“Wow. That’s amazing. Let’s go see.”

And the trees aren’t the only surprise: Christmas instrumentals play in the background during dinner. Each of the favors they chose for their guests is wrapped in Christmas paper. Santa Claus comes by for a surprise visit and pictures.

There’s even a fruitcake sitting next to their “naked” cake, a three-tiered flourless chocolate confection topped with blueberries and figs. 

It’s the best Julymas wedding ever.

“You know, Cas,” Dean murmurs, holding his hand while they wait for their friends to line up along the path toward their vehicle, “I’m really glad you got knocked out by a smelly Christmas tree in the middle of summer.”

“Gee, thanks.”

Dean chuckles. “Just teasing. But really”—he bumps his forehead against Cas’—“I know it was kind of dumb luck, all of it, but it was the best luck and I’m...I’m so happy.”

Cas smiles softly. “We are lucky, aren’t we?”

“Yeah.” He lifts Cas’ chin and rubs his thumb under his mouth before he kisses it. “Merry Julymas, babe.”

“Merry Julymas, hubby. And happy”—he pulls out his phone and asks for the time—“five hour anniversary.”

Dean pulls Cas in for another kiss, ignoring their families’ hoots and hollers.

“Time to go,” Cas says. “Let’s get somewhere private so you can ride me, cowboy.”

Their family and friends light their way with sparklers, showering them with good wishes and love. Tonight, they’ll spend their first night as husbands in a hotel by the airport. Tomorrow, they’ll board a flight to Costa Rica to start their adventure honeymoon, complete with ziplines, surfing lessons, and something called “canyoning” that makes Dean glad they’ve both gotten lots of rock climbing practice. After that, they’ll start their married lives in their brand new home, and in a couple of months, Cas will be by his side as he and Benny open their new restaurant.

That familiar fire in his chest—way brighter than the sparklers—flares brightly. 

Dean can’t wait to start his very merry life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! ❤️💙💚
> 
> A very happy holiday season to you if you celebrate! Wishing you all peace and happiness in the new year! Thank you for all you’ve done to give brightness to my year. ❤️
> 
> Ranch Austin is a real wedding venue. Find it here: [Ranch Austin](https://www.ranchaustin.com/)
> 
> I hope to see you all for my next fic, Option C, coming soon! Here’s a preview! 
> 
> Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak thought that their senior year of college would be the best year of their lives—until they find out the apartment they’re renting has also been rented to someone else. Given three options, they choose option C—live together for the year and make it work.
> 
> When roommate Vaughn turns out to be a conceited jerk with very different political views and values, best friends Dean and Cas scheme to push him out...by any means necessary. Those means become an elaborate game of fake-relationship antics, which would be fine if Dean wasn’t secretly in love with Cas and Cas hadn’t sworn off dating friends. 
> 
> As the games escalate, will Dean be able to cope with the feelings that just won’t go away? And will Cas stick with his vow, or will he feelings force him to find another option?


End file.
